Together
by sarapals with past50
Summary: GSR! Sara and Grissom get together, quietly and secretly. She decides to call him Gil. Fluff to make you smile!
1. Chapter 1

Together

**Together **

Chapter 1

Grissom held her hand while she cried. She did not tell her story easily. It choked and sobbed and twisted from well hidden crevices of her brain. He continued to hold her hand, his face unflinching in the raw trauma of the telling. When she said all she could, and there was more that she could tell, he stood, pulling her up. He didn't speak, just wrapped both arms around her and held her close.

"Come on," he whispered. She did not resist. He guided her into her bedroom, sat her on the bed, and pulled the covers back. "What do you sleep in?"

She looked at him with re-rimmed, wide eyes.

"You need to sleep." He had stepped into her bathroom and quickly returned with a damp washcloth. Very carefully and with short delicate movements, he washed her face. "That's better." He looked around the bedroom. It had been so long—months after she moved in—that he had last been in this room, neat, comfortable, one framed photo beside her bed, of them made in San Francisco. She was giggling while holding a camera at arm's length.

Finally, she spoke. "Behind the door. What I sleep in."

He found gray sweatpants and a shirt on a hook, handed them to her, then turned his back, pretending to adjust the blinds while she changed. He heard her slip between the sheets.

"Hey," he said as he sat on the bed beside her. She covered her eyes with her hand. "This is between us. I'm staying for a while. Ok?" He almost smiled.

"Why?" she asked.

He moved to the other side of the bed, removed his shoes, and stretched out beside her. "I want to." He nodded toward two books beside her bed. "Do you mind if I read?" She shook her head. He opened a book where her marker lay and begin to read out loud. His words slipped quietly out in husky, smooth sounds.

She reached over and touched his arm. "Thanks. I've missed you." In ten minutes, her soft even breath told him she was asleep. He leaned back against pillows and in a few minutes, he was asleep.

She moved and woke him up. Her hand lay on his chest, right above his heart. As he watched her sleep, he realized how young she looked. He moved his hand to cover her. She stirred again and her eyes flickered open.

"What happened to us, Grissom?" She said as her eyes met his.

He took her hand in his and moved it to his lips. "I don't know, Honey." He gently kissed her hand. "I just don't know what to do."

"Just love me," was her quiet response.

He squeezed her hand and neither said anything for several minutes. Finally, he said, "I do."

She remained very still hearing what he said, taking a minute to realize what it meant.

"Can you sleep?" He asked.

She nodded her head.

"I need to return to work." He got up, saying, "I'll be back later and bring food."

"You don't have too. I'm fine. Really."

He reached over and brushed back a lock of her hair. "I know I don't' have to—I want to. Now get some sleep."

She watched as he closed her door and she heard him leave. She reached over and pulled the pillow he had used into her arms. She could sleep. She could wait for him to return.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Do not own these characters

_**A/N:**__ Do not own these characters! Just trying to provide a few smiles!_

**Chapter 2**

Grissom was true to his word. He returned later with food, vegetarian. They sat at her table, ate, and talked. Not about him or her. The night and sleep had pulled a curtain around that. At the end of their meal, he told her what Ecklie said, calling her a loose cannon. Her anger flared instantly then his hand touched hers and he smiled.

"But, you're my loose cannon." His look and comment made her laugh.

He left soon after saying he would come back the next day. She sat on her sofa for a long time, thinking. Every thought came back to what he had said in her bed. Nothing else. He returned the next day, bringing food, and every day of her suspension, he came. He brought a movie, a book, cases to review, and always, food. Neither brought up what had been said in her bed.

She returned to work. Days passed. She worked with Grissom a few times. Ecklie avoided her. She and Catherine apologized, sort of. Catherine told Sara she had been right about the husband. Sara said she should not have said those personal words to Catherine. She made it through the schedule, calm, cooperative, no temper, no loose cannon. She volunteered to work an extra shift so Catherine could be off. On her tenth day, Grissom abruptly told her she had three days off and was not to volunteer for the others. Then he walked off.

At home, she showered, slipped on jeans, a top, tied her hair back and punched the volume up on a favorite song. That's when she noticed the little light on her phone. She hesitated before checking the number. Three calls in three minutes, same number, no message. As she held the phone, it rang again.

"Sidle."

"May I come by?"

Four simple words with a simple request. Nothing was simple between them. Since her return, he had worked with her, but rarely talked to her. She expected too much. Why was it so difficult to accept that?

A soft knock signaled his arrival less than five minutes after his call. When she opened her door, he stood there, hands in his pockets, his hair damp and curling. He did not look at her.

This was bad. What had she done? Her mind raced back trying to find some clue. Maybe she had been too careful, to cooperative. She waved him in. "What have I done...?"

She stopped her question as she turned to face him. Something had changed. He had not said a word yet his face had changed. His hand stretched out to her. All she had to do was reach out. She felt an intake of air, a sudden gasp, not sure if it came from her or him.

His words tumbled out, overpowering her own. "We've been alone to long." With those words, she found his arms around her, his hands in her hair. Her own hands touched his face, willing herself to believe what was happening. Minutes passed. He held her close, her hands moved around his neck, her face crushed into his collar. She bit her lip thinking that pain would make this real.

Some sound must have come from her. His words whispered on a soft breathe, "Don't cry." He pulled away to look at her and moved his fingertips across her face.

"I've been so foolish. I've hurt you, but no more. I want you—no, I need you. I've needed you for years." He pulled her close.

With his last sentence, she broke from his arms. Tears gone, she backed away. "Are you drunk?"

He laughed. "No, no. I'm very sober, and very serious." He sat down, pulling her with him. Neither could or would say anything. Her music played, a little too loud.

Slowly, he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it in an old-fashioned greeting way. "Appropriate song," he said. She leaned toward his face as he met her halfway. This was no dream.

They sat in silence, hands together, neither moving. Finally, she moved her fingers and he looked at her. She quickly smiled then dropped her gaze.

"Why now?" she asked.

His hand combed thru his hair then he touched her hair. "Everything. Today, when you left, everyone left, you walked to your car and drove off alone. I realized—something—it's difficult for me to say—why am I fighting you? I've made you sad, miserable. I've hurt you because I could not or would not accept what you knew." He chuckled softly. "I guess the stars lined up today and I got the message—if not now, when?"

They sat in silence again, hands intertwined. He began to speak, but stopped before saying a word.

Finally, she asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"No," he replied. "No, I'm leaving town." He turned to her. "For a couple of days."


	3. Chapter 3

Sara pulled her hand from his, moving to lower the volume of her music

Sara pulled her hand from his, moving to lower the volume of her music.

"I want you to go. With me. When was the last time you saw the Grand Canyon?"

She smiled gradually changing a timid grin into one of her broad, face changing smiles. "I haven't been out there in years."

"North Rim?"

She shook her head. "Never."

He looked away, stammering a bit before talking. "I'm not sure how this is supposed to work. I have not asked someone on a weekend trip in a long time." He combed his hand thru his hair. "I'm sure you were the last one."

Sara handed him the television remote. "Use this. I won't be long." She stood and reached to touch his face, then kissed the top of his head, thinking it better not to move to fast. In fifteen minutes, she was packed. She did not want him to have too much time to think. She found him pacing her living room. He smiled when she appeared.

"You are quick—jacket. It's cool at night."

She passed her bag to him and turned to get a coat. "Anything else?" She asked. "I need to leave a note for my neighbor. She keeps up with me enough to worry." She quickly wrote a note, left it for her neighbor, and locked her door.

In the parking lot, he opened the door for her. It always surprised her that he could be so well-mannered and at other times so clueless. At one time, she decided he was thoughtless and uncaring, even emotionless. However, several events changed her mind.

"I've had this planned for months," he said.

She looked at him with surprise. He saw her look and explained. "I go out every year right after the North Rim opens—but I wasn't sure you would go." He glanced at her before continuing, "I wanted to take you out of town, away from work."

Silly man, she thought. She would go to the moon with him, wearing the clothes on her back. "Ok," she replied. It was hard not to smile. Her face ached from smiling, but it was a good ache.

"I decided yesterday to ask you. This takes a lot of courage." He glanced at her. "You can be very intimidating."

She couldn't stop smiling. "Is that what you call it?"

He returned a smile, "Maybe I'm scared to death."

Sara reached over and held his hand. "It—we will be fine. Whatever happens. No regrets. And I've never seen the North Rim."

They drove out of the city, stopping for gas and 'road trip food.' She laughed and showed him nuts, chocolate, and marshmallows. He was sure this was the first time marshmallows had been in his car. He wore his straw hat. She was so accustomed to it that she had stopped giggling over its look years ago.

Grissom was surprised and relieved at the ease of conversation they had as they left Las Vegas heading to Utah before hooking back to Arizona and North Rim. They talked about the first time they met, the environment, the landscape, and the small towns they passed. There was no talk of work or family or their separation.

Twice, Sara called him Grissom. "Gil," he broke in after the second time. "Call me Gil. Leave Grissom at work."

She blushed as her eyes brightened. "Gil—Gilbert. Maybe I'll call you Gilbert." He raised an eyebrow and she giggled. "Maybe not." She tried to decide this was progress; only Catherine called him Gil at work.

They reached the park and driving to the lodge, she requested that he stop so she could look at the view. Finally he told her the best view would be at the lodge, on the rim, at sunset. Once at the lodge, all he heard her say was an amazed "Oh!" several times. He left her to wander around while he checked in; getting the same cabin he had stayed in on other visits. He found her on the porch overlooking the canyon.

"It's beautiful."

"It is and it changes. Sunset drops your jaw." He picked up her bag. "We're in a cabin. You'll like this." On their walk, he told her a little history of the buildings and the park. He fumbled with the lock while she stood on the porch, making the same "Oh" sound. The porch, placed almost on the rim, provided a very private but spectacular view of the canyon.

Grissom reappeared with two water glasses. "It's not fancy. I hope…" he stopped. "I want you to like it." His words trailed off.

She reached over and touched his arm. Something changed. With Grissom, he felt her touch as light and delicate, yet it caused him to flush as a surge of desire moved through his body, seeming to change his internal structure.

Sara had struggled all day to keep her emotions from overwhelming everything she said or did. When he stepped back, she tightened her hold on his arm. His water glass disappeared as he reached for her, pulling her inside. He closed curtains, threw things off the bed, pulled his jacket off, but never let her go. Her fingers moved on his shirt.

Their urgency got them to the first bed, neither realizing it was the smaller of the two beds in the room. Her pants caught on her shoes and he swore as he pulled her shoes off. Her entire body throbbed as his weight moved on top of her. Only minutes passed until she heard her own gasp of air and very quickly came the soft powerful explosion of her orgasm. Her entire existence was right now wrapped around this man who held her. Then, she felt his own release as his body shuddered.

They were both too surprised to say anything for several minutes; both held each other.

"I'm not usually like this," she heard herself say.

He made a soft quiet laugh. "I can't remember." His lips touched her ear and moved slowly along her neck. "Celibacy is over-rated." His hand moved along her arm as he shifted his weight and put his head next to hers.

The quietness was so complete that she could hear the air stir the leaves outside. She raised her head and met his eyes, her hand touched his face. She kissed his lips and felt his hands move along her body. She would never get enough of him.

"Sara," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

She kissed him again, deeply, pulling him into her. When the need to breathe broke them apart, she quietly spoke, "There is no reason to forgive. We are together now." In the dim room, she pulled the sheet over both of them as they lay twisted together in the aftermath of their own making. Grissom dosed, but she remained awake, dark eyes watching him sleep. He slept, waking up after thirty minutes with a few seconds of confusion in his eyes, then realization appeared as his eyes met hers.

"I couldn't sleep. I was afraid this might be a dream."

"It's not a dream," he responded with a slight catch in his voice. He had thought about her for years, remembering another time with her. He had not thought about waking in her arms, hearing her voice, having her body touching his. In these few seconds, the intimate shift in his emotions almost overwhelmed his ability to speak. With that mysterious feminine intuition, she recognized his need.

"If we want to see the sunset, we need to move." She smiled.

"Can I bribe you with a sunset and food to come back here?" he asked.

She giggled. He remembered that sound from the first time they met. Her elbow found his ribs. "Bring me to the end of the road, 40 miles to the nearest town, and you try to bribe me!" She gave a strong tug as she pulled the sheet up and around her. "I'm going to watch the sunset." She stepped out on the porch wrapped in a sheet. Grissom remembered another time when she looked like Aphrodite. He changed his mind--Venus—goddess of love and beauty but also vegetation, goddess of gardens and vineyards.

Her voice brought him back to the present and he scrambled to find pants and shirt. Did they actually throw their clothes around the room? He pulled a blanket from the bed—that sheet was not enough to keep her warm—and stepped outside.

"Venus? You are going to need a little more than your toga." He wrapped the blanket around her and sat on the railing so he could watch her face as the sun moved to the horizon.

They watched as a multitude of colors moved across the landscape. Sara voiced the words of thousands before who had watched this natural grand theater. They moved back inside when the sun disappeared. The ease of familiarity between them surprised Grissom. There were no awkward minutes as she showered and he passed her clothes into the miniscule bathroom. He waited while she finished dressing, holding up her boot when he found it under a bed. Dinner in the lodge followed the same easy way, much like old friends instead of recent lovers.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As they finished their meal, Sara's hand touched his arm; his hand dropped to her thigh. From that touch, the two could not move fast enough to leave the dining room and return to the cabin. He stopped on the porch and pulled her into his arms. The passionate kiss was not for other's eyes, broken only when one of them had to breathe.

He held her close and sighed. "What have I done? All these years…"

Her fingers covered his mouth. "Shhh. It's ok. I won't have regrets." She smiled and, again, she had known what to say.

Inside, instead of the frantic frenzy of earlier, they moved slowly. Hands carefully removed clothing, kisses were slow and lingered, their movements synchronized to an unheard symphony. His hands and lips covered her, unable to get enough of her physical body. Few words were spoken. Once his words of "not yet" provoked a swear word from her lips, then a deep giggle. At the end of their passion, they lay entangled in arms and legs, touching as much as possible. Complete exhaustion finally brought sleep to both.

She woke quickly, aware that she was alone, raising her head, trying to see in the darkness of the room.

"I'm here," his voice came from near the window.

"Come back to bed," she whispered, trying to quiet her misplaced panic of seconds before. She could see him now, sitting by the window. She thought, 'in the movies he would be smoking.'

He remained in the chair. She sat up in bed wrapping the sheet and blanket around her. Nothing was said for several minutes. Then he began quietly speaking. "This is much more than I imagined. I can not get enough of you. I left our bed to keep from waking you—to keep from—what are we to do?"

Sara had loved him for so long that her words came easily. She knew what to do. She what to say to him.

"Gil, come back to bed. It's too cold to be sitting there." When he did not move, she continued. "I want the part of you no one else has. If I can have that part of Gil, then everyone else can have the Grissom part." She stopped talking and pushed the covers back. "If we tell anyone about us, then this—what we do away from work—becomes public. It's no longer mine. Come back to me."

He walked to the bed and crawled in beside her. His cool skin sent a shiver along her body. "We need to warm you up," she whispered.

"I don't feel cold," he said "and you feel wonderful," as he touched her neck with light, quick kisses.

A faint ray of light peaked over the eastern horizon to begin a new day.

Grissom slipped out of bed while Sara slept. All he could see was dark hair and a form underneath blankets. The sun was up making a bright clear day for the few other tourists around. He made his way to the restaurant, picked up food, and returned to find Sara deep under covers sleeping soundly. Placing food beside her bed, he showered, dressed, and found her still sleeping.

"Time to wake up, sleepyhead." He said as he felt for her beneath the blankets. He heard a groan and felt movement. In a minute two brown eyes appeared. "Food, coffee."

She reached a hand toward the coffee. "I think I've lost my shirt." She grinned as a bare shoulder followed her arm.

Grissom gave her a raised eyebrow look before responding, "Lady, I think you've lost all your clothes." He bent to retrieve a shirt and tossed it to her.

She pulled the shirt over her head. "I'm starved. What's to eat?" She took a muffin he offered and proceeded to eat it in four bites.

"Another muffin? Fruit?" He passed her the muffin. He actually enjoyed watching her wake up. He pulled a chair near the bed. "Orange?" he asked.

Suddenly, her dark eyes grew serious. She quietly asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yes. Better than ok." He passed her the peeled orange. "You?"

She smiled again, relief in her eyes. "Yes, yes. I need a shower. I'll be quick." Covers flipped back and two long legs appeared clad in those panties he briefly remembered from earlier. His thoughts went in dizzying speed from the shower, to the bed, to her body, forgetting everything else for a few seconds. He remained in the chair as she moved around the room, gathering clothes. She grinned as she shut the bathroom door.

Later, they walked trails with other tourists. Words that came easily for her had slowed, then stopped as altitude, the walk, and the view made her catch her breath.

"We are flat-landers, Sara." Grissom remarked as he leaned against a large rock. "We can't breathe at this level."

She leaned beside him. Both had been carefully avoiding physical contact since leaving the cabin. He sighed and with hesitant hand reached for her.

"I hardly know where to begin, Sara." His fingers intertwined with hers. "We are so much alike, yet so different. You are so compassionate, so much more than I am. I question my own ability to care as you do. I am too old. A dozen other reasons why I—we should not…" He stopped when she turned to face him.

"Stop, Grissom—Gil. We have begun. From almost the first day I saw you those years ago, I knew. I knew as sure as the stars are in the sky, I knew you were the man I could search for the rest of my life. It would have been so easy for either of us to miss the other. It would have been so easy not to come to Las Vegas when you called." She moved her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I have always known you are my one and only."

His arms wrapped around her slim body. His lips touched her hair, then her face turned to his and he found her mouth.

The quietness of their world was suddenly broken by sounds of high pitched giggles and footsteps along the path as a line of young girls appeared. Dressed in similar clothes, carrying small day packs, the group descended on Sara and Grissom like a flock of birds. The first to see them stopped abruptly which caused a brief body pile-up and reversing. Quickly, amidst continued giggles and waves, the girls moved on; adults smiling and speaking to the couple as they passed. Two girls looked back and waved.

"We've been exposed." Sara said with a giggle, sounding much like the little girls.

"I can see you as a Girl Scout." He said.

She shook her head. "No, not likely. My childhood was never that normal."

He held her regretting his comment. They started back up the trail, yet this walk kept them together, his arm firmly around Sara's back.

She spoke softly. "We have so little time."

Grissom looked at her, seeing a pink blush rising on her face. He pulled her closer. "Sara, what am I to do with you?" He knew as he watched her face break into a broad smile.

Later, they sat together on the porch of the cabin, smiling, talking about nothing, and touching each other.

"Why can't I keep my hands off you?" He asked.

"Because there will be times when you can not touch me." She touched his face. "Nor I you." Her fist covered her mouth as her words choked. Silent tears welled in her eyes.

"Hey, what's this?" He asked gently taking her face in his hands. "No regrets, remember. This is a little over-whelming, in a good way." He pulled her close.

She nodded but could not stop tears from falling. "I'm happy, I am." She wiped tears away. "I can't remember when I've been this happy."

This was going to be interesting, thought Grissom. "We will work this out. Isn't it time we were both happy?" She nodded again.

"Gil, I can't work for someone else."

He knew she would eventually bring this up. This time he knew what to say. "I have no intention of that happening. Until you decide to tell the others, you and I will work together, same as we've been doing." He stood pulling her into an embrace. "I can not believe it took me so long to decide to do this. I'm sorry."

She kissed him, a long deep kiss as her hands wove through his hair, gently pulling him into the cabin. Some time later, she suggested "Let's find food." Grissom knew she could eat.

Salad, soup, fruit, potatoes, bread—she ate all of it and asked for the dessert menu. He laughed, surprised that she could eat that much. She blamed her appetite on altitude; he said it was fresh air and something else she had been doing.

A flyer on their table announced entertainment later that night. Grissom took the flyer and held it up. "Do you dance, Miss Sidle?"

"Not much."

"We will tonight."

Sara laughed. Everyone in the lab knew Grissom did not dance—Catherine said so.

_A/N: Thanks for reading our fluff! More to come! _


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After eating, they wandered back to the cabin watching the sun set from the porch. Grissom found it easy to maintain conversation with her if he never let her go. As light moved away and twilight deepened, the closer they moved together. Grissom thought that at a distance they would appear as one.

Eventually, they heard music begin in the lodge. A keyboard, then percussion, a horn, and a guitar picked a soft song.

"Let's go dance," he said.

"We don't have to, Gil. I'm fine right here."

Grissom unwrapped his arms and stepped away. "Get ready. Freshen up--whatever you ladies do. It may be a long time before I decide to go dancing. How many times does one get to dance at the Grand Canyon?"

There wasn't much she could do to "get ready." She went inside to brush her hair.

"Oh, yeah!" He called from the porch. "I can dance a little. Everything Catherine says isn't true!"

Which turned out to be right. He could dance very well. The band played one song after another, songs from the past, nearly all familiar to the audience, who sang along, and danced. Sara knew Catherine was wrong when Grissom led her into a fast two-step around the dance floor. There was rhythm hidden in his bones that made it easy to follow his steps as well as feel the slight pressure of his hand for a turn then back to facing him. She could not stop smiling.

At the end of the song, both breathless and laughing, he said, "It's been a while since I danced."

"Catherine is wrong! You can dance. Does she know this?"

"No, and you will not tell. I do not dance the way Cath dances." He grabbed her hand. "I can dance to this one too." And they danced again. Sara smiled at his solemn face as they started to dance, then slowly he smiled as he moved her closer to him.

They rested leaning against the stone wall, watching and listening as others moved around the floor. Slow music began, and Grissom took her hand, leading her to the center of the floor. Carefully placing one hand on her back and taking her hand in his, they began a slow dance to simple lyrics; a song Sara had not heard before.

The solo singer sang the verse "I love to watch a woman dance, she bows her head and lifts her hands. Her hips begin to circle slowly…"

They moved with heads together, her hands brought together around his neck, his around her waist. At the end of the song, they remained together with the last words lingering. Only a change in music and tempo moved them from the dance floor.

Slowly, they walked back to their cabin.

"Shower with me," she whispered.

The bathroom was tiny, barely large enough for one to turn around. Earlier, Grissom had the same thought but dismissed it, too small, too personal, too exposed, too soon. For all those reasons, getting in the shower with Sara was what he did It was very personal and very intimate.

Twice in the night, he woke to find her awake. The first time, she moved into his arms, never saying a word, yet awakening a desire that left him with this newfound feeling of completeness, of finding a long-lost soul, one that he had forgotten existed. Her passion satisfied without a word, Sara slept.

Hours later, he woke a second time to find her pulling blankets on the bed. "Cold out there," his voice husky from sleep. He could see her body outlined by faint light from the windows. "You don't sleep much."

She crawled back in bed, making him move from his warm place.

"I sleep enough." Her hands were in his hair, on his face, touching him in ways he had dreamed of, with her soft kisses following her hands. He rolled to be on top of her, his body heating with fury as he responded to her passionate actions.

"Sara, why? Why did this take so long?"

He felt lips, then teeth on his chest followed by a quick laugh. "It wasn't from lack of trying." He had under estimated what both had kept hidden so well.


	6. Chapter 6

"Too soon

"Too soon."

His words stated what was obvious to both. They had moved in slow motion as they gathered up individual paraphernalia of sharing a room. He placed her hairbrush in her bag, letting his hand touch her clothes. Neither could talk nor even try to carry on a conversation. So much had passed between them in such a short time.

"I'll go check out." He said, not looking at her as he left his bag on the bed and shot out the door.

Sara only nodded her head—he did not see it. Everything was packed. Was he having regrets? It had not seemed that way earlier this morning. They kept smiling and lingering longer than was necessary. As time to leave drew nearer, he had gotten quieter. She moved to the porch. She wished again that she had thought to bring a camera. North Rim, early spring, beautiful. He had said she was beautiful.

Grissom appeared as suddenly as he had left. In one hand was a disposable camera, in the other hand he held a small box, and he was smiling.

"I got you something." He was tearing the camera from the package. "We won't get the sunset, but at least we will have a few pictures." He pointed the camera and pressed the button, wound the film, and clicked it again.

She laughed, grabbing the camera. "Your turn! Smile!" She clicked, moved to stand beside him, holding the camera at arm's length, and clicked again.

He held up the small box. "Got you something else." He lifted the top to reveal a braided necklace set with small stones. He took it and latched it around her neck. She kissed him quickly and walked back inside. He followed, watching as she smiled into the mirror.

"We need to leave," he whispered. She nodded and lifted her bag.

On their way to the car, she asked a park employee to take their picture. Neither smiled. The employee insisted on taking another and both laughed for a second, then a third photo. In the car, the quietness returned. Grissom drove, occasionally raking his hand over his face. More than an hour passed with only the sound of music in the car.

"I need to stop." He slowed and pulled to the shoulder. Sara looked at him, his face etched with worry or anxiety, she wasn't sure. He got out of the car, standing for a few minutes before coming to her door.

He opened the door. "Would you get out, please?"

Confusion showed on her face as he took her hand.

"S—Sara." He backed away, his hand splayed over his chest. "I don't know what to do. How can we go on? I—I'm not sure I can do this."

She moved into his arms. For two days, she had been happier than she ever imagined was possible. Standing on the side of the highway, in bright sunshine, he looked confused. She felt his arms tighten as she kissed him in a hard, emotion-filled kiss. Her fingers combed his hair. Finally, she broke the kiss.

"That's what you do, Gilbert." She smiled. "We go to work, just like always. After work, what we do is private. No one has to know. I won't tell."

He continued to hold her. "I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you."

She laughed. "Put on that 'Grissom work face' and we will be fine. Take me home. We have work to do."

The rest of the trip, he held her hand as he drove. They talked. When they arrived at her apartment, she asked him to remain in his car, insisting it was easier. He kissed her hand and let her go.

Neither could imagine the nightmare that would unfold as they returned to work.

Sara arrived first, quietly putting her gear in order. Greg found her in the locker room.

"Hey, Sara." She looked up at him and smiled. "Good days off?" he asked.

"Yeah, good days. I needed it," she replied.

"Whoa! Look at your face!" He hooted.

She quickly wiped her hand across her face. "What's wrong?"

"Sun," he said. "You got sun! Looks good." He smiled and leaned close, "but you always look good."

Warrick and Nick showed up together and in the crowded room, they caught her up on lab chit-chat and whatever else they thought was interesting. She laughed as the three finished sentences, contradicted each other, talked about the rain, and bragged on themselves.

In another part of the building, Grissom entered the cool office of Dr. Robbins who turned to greet his long-time friend. He had copied reports, noted which were finished, cases still open. As he passed papers to Grissom, he stepped back as he looked at his friend.

In his quiet voice, he stated, "You finally did it."

Grissom jerked his eyes from the paper to Dr. Robbins. His expression changed quickly. "How?" He smiled as he leaned against the desk. "Is it that obvious?"

Robbins chuckled. "How long have I known you? How long have you been driving out to North Rim? How long have you two been dancing around each other? You did take her out there?"

Grissom removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "What am I going to do?"

Robbins laughed again, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Bug's bitten you hard, old friend. It's about time. We all need a good woman."

Grissom remained where he was, finally asking, "Any advice."

"Just treat her right."

"She wants to keep it quiet. You know the policy. I'm her supervisor. One of us has to change."

The two men stood in silence for several minutes. "I won't tell anything. Sara's the best CSI you've got—a fact I'm sure you have never told her—so I can understand what you're thinking. That said—is it fair to either of you." He chuckled again. "When was the last time you did an actual evaluation of your team? Hell, you two are so darn private about everything, no one will ever know."

Grissom looked at the papers in his hand. "Thanks."

"You've got a tough night. Who's going out to the hospital?"

"I'll go. Take my best CSI."

Sara and Grissom worked all night and most of the day before he sent her home for a few hours of sleep. She returned to work on the same case, going from lab to hospital and back to the lab. When they found the things hidden behind the vent, they knew this was their best evidence to find the killer. Then, in the relative safety of the nursing station, Adam Tenet found her alone.

Hours later, she returned to the locker room, drained physically and emotionally, sitting along. How easily they walked into the worse moments of lives. How easily these moments could become their own nightmare. She rested her head in her hands, unable to move until she saw a shadow from the door.

"Go home." He said very quietly as he moved near her.

She took a deep breath as she looked up. "I will." He had touched her a dozen times on the drive back. She had said at least a dozen times that she was fine. "Are you ok?" She asked of him.

"Yes." But the look on his face told her differently. She remembered his face at the nursing station reflecting more than she could bear. All she could remember was thinking 'please don't let him see me die.'

She stood and gathered her things. "Will I see you later?"

"If you want."

She nodded as she headed to the door.

"Wait." He reached for her arm, but stopped before he touched her. "Would you come to my house?" His hands came together in that motion she knew meant he was unsure of what to say. She smiled and waited. "I'll be there in an hour. There's food."

She nodded. "Ok, Gilbert. See you in an hour," smiling one more time before ducking her head and heading down the hall, her exhaustion lifted, hoping no one notice that her feet never touched the floor.

Seventy-five minutes later, Sara pulled up next to his SUV. She had showered and changed clothes, but brought nothing with her. He had not asked her to stay, just to eat. The door opened and he pulled her inside. Without a word, he had his arms around her, his lips met hers and the taste of him flooded her senses.

They stood inside his door, releasing delayed passion that had played around the events of work. Neither willing to let the other go.

He was the first to speak. "I should never have left you alone."

She kept her head on his shoulder. "Don't go there."

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the floor. "Come in." He kept one arm around her as they moved into the living room. Music played. Sun flooded the space with light. "I've put something in the oven, vegetarian."

She noticed he smiled and kept her hand in his as if their touching helped him to speak. Finally, he had to let her go to open the oven and remove food.

"Smells great." She leaned against the counter and watched as he placed it on the small table, already set with plates and napkins.

Grissom pulled glasses from a cabinet. "Drink?"

"Water is fine."

They ate and talked about work. He told her what had been said with Doc Robbins. At first she was stunned that someone could guess that she and Grissom had been together. By the time Grissom had related the conversation, she was laughing.

"You have to be careful," she giggled. "Walking around looking like you just got laid will get us both in trouble."

He laughed and kissed her. "You taste like apples. And no one is going to notice the look on your face?"

She shook her head. "No, no one notices me. I'll be fine."

He made a deep, chest rumbling sound. "Yes, they do. Every man in the lab would walk over hot coals for you! Half of them are in love with you—true! Greg is so besotted with you that he can't make a coherent sentence with you in the room. They all notice you."

He moved her plate, got up, saying "Wait. I have something." He left the room, returning in a few minutes, placing a box in front of her.

She opened her mouth to speak but could think of nothing to say. Pink. Every woman in America knew the color; at least every woman who had been in a mall knew this pink and this store.

"Open it." He said looking extremely pleased with his surprise. "I think I'm figuring out her secret."

She pulled the top up, pink tissue paper popping out, as she reached in. She found a silk robe inside, its long sash trailing to the bottom of the box where two other, much smaller items lay. Her face blushed the color of the box. Holding the robe up, she whispered, "nice."

He sat across from her, smiling. He loved the look on her face, one of unbelieving surprise and happiness. This was what he wanted, to see her happy.

"Stay." He rose, taking her hand, and leading her to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them. The new things were left where they lay.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! We've got another one in the works! Another author took out 'title' so we've got to come up with another one—! _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Tell me about your mother." It was said as a hushed whisper. He had been exceptionally gentle in touching her, in kissing her, in taking her to bed. Even giving her the pink box today making them laugh. She knew; he knew. Work had been difficult for both and neither wanted to relive it.

"Not now," she responded as she turned her face into his neck. She could distract him with her lips against his skin.

He moved enough to face her. "Tell me your earliest memory of you and your mother."

Her breath left in a heavy sigh. "I really do not…"

"I want to know, please." He reached over to the lamp and switched it off. "Tell me."

In the semi-darkness, she was quiet for several minutes. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other held her against him. His legs wrapped with hers.

"I remember standing on a chair while she cooked something. Maybe I was four. Do you think we can remember events from that age? I can remember a blue dress that wrapped around to button and she would button it for me. We made it a game."

His hand moved along her body, gentle strokes of his fingers. He said, "I remember my mother eating with me, just the two of us. I believe we can remember events from an early age." He kissed her.

Sara continued. "I think I was five when I—how does a child know this? My mother was afraid of my father, or perhaps I knew my father was mean and hurtful by then. Certainly a five or six year old has that ability. It was little things, dinner was cold and thrown out, he would slap her for some unknown reason." She stopped and again his hands moved along her body.

"There were always bruises, a broken arm once." She made a sarcastic laugh. "About six months later, I broke my arm—stepped in a hole, fell and came up with a compound fracture. Got to the emergency room and my mom was frantic until my father got there. He was such a sweet talking, nice looking man outside of the house—nothing like the man I knew as my father. I can remember lots of questions while my arm was wrapped in a cast. Of course, years later, I realized—a mother and a daughter with broken arms within six months. Someone thought 'abuse' but I doubt if I would have known how to identify abuse.

"Later, I learned. There is so much one learns to hide or forget, especially if it's painful." She was quiet for several minutes while he continued to hold her.

"The night my mother killed my father, I don't remember anything being different from all the other days. He came home, did not like something, went into a rage. She picked up a knife, maybe had one in her hand, I don't remember. Cut him below his ear, across his neck, then stabbed him twice, once in his liver. I read all this later. What I remember was all the blood and the smell."

He kissed her again.

"You've heard this. My mother was taken away. I went into foster care. She ended up in a hospital and I was taken in to visit her."

"How long was she there?"

In the darkness, she shook her head, "I don't know. I remained in foster care until I went to college."

He felt her hand brush her face. "Honey."

"She ended up in some type of group home—court ordered treatment program. No place for a kid."

"How often do you talk?"

"A few times a year."

He held her, not knowing what else to say. "You know today your mother would have another kind of treatment."

She made a sound as she blew air from her lungs. "I hope the system has improved, but I'm not sure it has, especially for those who are poor."

He could not in all honesty disagree with her. The poor, those without resources, did not have justice equal to those with money.

"Thank you for today," she said. "At least you were there and knew enough to let me get it out. Anyone else would have suffocated me."

He kissed her again. "I know you must have been terrified. I was." His fingers touched her neck.

"I'm fine now, really." She snuggled her head against his chin. She would never tell him what her thoughts were in those seconds of seeing his face.

"Can you sleep?"

She smiled. "I can always sleep with you. Read for a while."

There had been other times when he read to her. She had done the same to him. It did not matter what was read, more often poetry than anything else. It was the soothing sound of his voice that worked. He tapped the lamp and reached for a book. He fitted reading glasses on his nose and began reading. In a few minutes her body relaxed and her warm breathe against his neck slowed. He continued reading until his own eyes closed and his book slipped from his grasp.

The bed was empty; still warm so he had not been up long. Sara did not have to open her eyes to know he was near her.

"Stay here." His hand covered hers. "Here's a key."

Her eyes opened to see him dressed. "I need to go in." She said.

"Your boss can cover for you," he said with a smile and closed her hand around the key. "Take your time. You need to take a day off."

She did take her time. Locked his front door, drove to her apartment, dressed for work and arrived 20 minutes after everyone else. Grissom shot her a glance making her smile. Work was slow so she ended up with six hours of paperwork before deciding to leave.

She stuck her head in to say goodbye to find three heads bent over his desk. She waved; his eyebrow shot upwards. She had time to buy groceries and do a laundry pick-up before her phone chirped. She said her name.

Nick asked her to meet at the diner. She hesitated before agreeing. It had been weeks since they ate together. She had time to put her food away.

Eating together had its rituals, habits, and traditions, even breakfast at a diner. Everyone always sat in the same place, always ordering the same food. Grissom showed up automatically upgrading the group to a bigger table and his favorite waitress. Plates arrived and talk continued.

Grissom stopped their haphazard conversations when he said, "Guys."

Forks stopped mid-path. 'Guys' addressed everyone.

"Catherine has backed out of our trip to the forensic meeting. So I've got one registration out of the approved two. Who?"

Warrick shook his head. "I went last year. I'll pass."

Nick waved his hand, "its Sara's turn, Griss. She's never been to this meeting."

Sara watched and listened as this conversation played out. She dared not look at Grissom.

He pointed his fork at her. "Are you ok with this? It means leaving day after tomorrow."

"Sure." She glanced up to meet two twinkling blue eyes that the others could not see.

Talk resumed and she felt a knee touch hers. She responded with a similar touch with her foot. Neither smiled nor looked at the other.

Their meal finished, everyone took parting shots saying familiar words and laughing as friends do on parting for a few hours.

Before she had her seatbelt hooked, her phone was ringing.

"May I come by?"

She was smiling when she said "You are going to get caught playing footsie under the table."

"I want to play something else."

"Then I'll see you in 15 minutes." At least she had food. In a few hours they would be hungry again. She had been rendered speechless with the possibility of going to a conference with him, not sure how he had managed it. And made it sound as if it was not his idea.

Minutes after she opened her door, he was there; shy, uncertain, his hands together. Sara pulled him inside, closed and locked the door, his shyness gone. His hands touched her. His arms were around her and their lips met.

"I need to shower."

"I need you in bed."

He won.

Later, he watched as she shaved her legs, making several comments about culture and body hair. She let him talk—he knew more cultural and scientific trivia than anyone she had ever known. Reaching into her cabinet, she brought out a new man's razor.

"For you. I can't go in with scruff burns on my face!"

He laughed. "True." He said as he covered his chin with foaming cream. He turned the razor back to her. "You do it."

She shook her head. "I've not done this before."

"You can. It's a safety. Easy. Just like shaving your legs."

"Mmmm," she responded. Slowly, she shaved his face, learning how to hold the razor, and accusing him of wanting to have his hands on her while she shaved him. He smiled.

They lay in her bed, curled together. She had put on the two small items from the pink box. He couldn't stop smiling. Not only had he made the correct guess of size, but the color was perfect for her.

"I can not figure out how you managed this trip."

He gave a chuckle as his eyebrow went up. "Fair play. All of you are very considerate of each other—most of the time. When Cath backed out, I knew that Warrick would because he went last year. Nick the year before. That left you." He rolled to face her. "And that's how I was almost certain that you and I would fly to New Orleans."


	8. Chapter 8

Two days passed quickly

Two days passed quickly. Sara filled out travel forms, sent a name change to the conference, and worked a double with Grissom. She even managed to preview topics for the three day meeting.

Grissom found her in the locker room. "Are you ready to travel?"

She smiled. "Yeah." She tried not to smile. "Three nights in the Big Easy. I've never been there."

"It's a great place. Hot, muggy, good food. And the meeting is a good one. Lots of academic research." He leaned against the door frame. "I'll pick you up later today and we can get one of the guys to drop us at the airport." He pointed his finger at her. "Rest."

She smiled again.

Grissom picked up her later. She packed a carry-on bag; travel lightly and wear black and white was her method. Pulling up in front of the lab, they spotted Greg on the sidewalk, waiting to be their driver. At his side was a huge suitcase, a carry-on roll bag and a large purse. Grissom and Sara looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

"What the heck is this?" He voiced the first concern.

"I'm pretty sure that's not Greg's way to pack. Are you sure Catherine isn't going?"

He stopped at the curb. Greg opened her door with a sweeping bow. "At your service, Miss Sidle." He was practically dancing around the door.

Sara rolled her eyes, "Nice luggage, Greg." They both looked at the door as it opened and the slim blonde walked out. Sofia. Turning, Sara met Grissom's eyes; obviously this was a surprise to him too.

Greg was hauling suitcases to the back of the SUV. Sara looked at Sofia's expensive suit, then looked down at her own jeans. Overdressed, she thought, for a plane ride.

She got out of the front seat, leaving it for Grissom. However, as soon as Sofia reached the vehicle, she took the front seat. Sara shrugged at Grissom who was still standing at the driver's door looking puzzled. He stepped aside to let Greg in the driver's seat.

Finally coming up with words, he said, "I didn't realize you were going, Sofia."

She smiled at him across the seat. "I had asked Ecklie weeks ago and a few days ago he presented me with registration and plane ticket. I think he did it as a peace offering. I thought Catherine was going."

Sara settled back and decided to let Grissom do the talking. Neither had to worry about conversation with Greg in the car. He kept a steady stream of talk going for the short ride to departures, asking questions that no one answered.

Sofia looked at Sara's suitcase while they waited for Greg to pull suitcases out of the vehicle. "Is that all you brought?"

"Yes. I tend to under pack."

Sofia hauled her largest suitcase to curbside check, hoisted her purse on her shoulder, and dragged the roll-on inside ahead of Grissom and Sara.

It was Grissom's turn to shrug. "We'll think of something."

Grissom asked for and got two seats in an exit row. Sofia's seat was several rows away. Before the plane left the terminal, he had rolled his jacket to use as a pillow, winked at Sara, and was asleep. She pulled a book out of her bag.

By the time flight attendants passed beverages, Sara did the same thing Grissom had done and fell asleep. At least they had leg room. And night workers developed the ability to sleep anywhere at any time. Grissom was the one to touch her shoulder to wake her up before landing.

"I've got an idea. Sofia checked luggage, so while we wait, I'll take care of something. Think San Francisco—a long time ago, but I haven't forgotten what you did then." He smiled in that self-satisfied way of working out a solution.

They waited for luggage and Grissom disappeared. When Sofia asked about his absence, Sara looked surprised, saying "He does that a lot. But he always turns up." Just after the two of them lifted the heavy suitcase off the carousel, he showed up, talking to an acquaintance who was there for the conference.

Outside, the air was heavy with humidity and a sweet smell of flowers. Darkness kept them from seeing much as the airport shuttle delivered them to the conference hotel on Canal Street. Once inside, people met Grissom with their hand out, laughing and talking as old friends. Sara remembered the same situation from another conference and smiled. That had been a long time ago, but some things did not change.

Sofia was first to check-in. She turned to Sara. "You know we are sharing a room, right?"

Sara was dumbfounded speechless. She looked for Grissom who was standing yards away talking with three men. "I need a room of my own. I—I don't share well. I think I snore."

Sofia turned back to the desk employee, then back to Sara. "Everything is booked to overflowing. She says she might find you a room in another hotel."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sara turned on her heel striding to Grissom who continued to laugh and talk with a growing group. "Grissom." She said softly, then a second time louder. "Grissom. We need another room."

He turned at her words and all conversation stopped. She related the shared room situation. Immediately, another man spoke, "Grissom, stay with me. Give her your room."

Grissom agreed, following Sara back to the check-in desk. "This will work out fine, Sara. And I did not know about this shared room—heck, I didn't know she was coming." His whispered comments stopped as they approached Sofia.

Room arrangements changed; suitcases taken upstairs; registration for conference completed and midnight arrived before anyone remembered food. Grissom directed them to a restaurant across the street.

Outside, Sara was surprised by the humidity, the heat, and the people. "This place must have a crime rate out the roof," she said.

Sofia looked at her. "Why?"

Grissom smirked a grin. "Any time people are moving around at midnight, crime goes up."

They ordered food and talked about the meeting. Sofia flirted with Grissom. Sara was quiet. She did comment on her vegetarian food being "the best I've eaten."

Exhaustion, time and weather changes got them back to the hotel and to their rooms. Sara was relieved she did not have to share a room with Sofia; she was relieved she was on another floor from Sofia. And she wasn't sure where Grissom was.

Ten minutes later, she knew. He was knocking on her door.

"Hello, Dear." Standing in the quiet hallway with his suitcase, looking quite satisfied with himself, he grinned when she opened the door.

"I thought you were sharing with your bud downstairs." She said as she stepped away from her door.

He kept a smile on his face. "He snores. And sleeps in his underwear." He dropped his bag and pulled her to him. "And his underwear isn't nearly as sexy as yours." The door closed behind him.

"I'm getting in the shower." She wiggled from his hold. "Unpack and join me." He kept the grin on his face as she pulled her shirt off.

In a few minutes, he was stepping into the steam filled tub with her. At times like this, his constant thought was 'why had he waited so long.' They were both happier than they had been in years of separation. Department policy nagged at him frequently; he was her supervisor.

Sara turned and handed him shampoo. "You have to shampoo tonight because you were enjoying all that flirting."

"I thought you wouldn't notice." He poured shampoo into his hands and began caressing her hair as she leaned in with a wet kiss.

"What's your big idea? I saw that look when we were at the airport." She leaned against him as he massaged shampoo into her hair. He responded to her by moving his hands down her back.

He said, "You know I can't think when you are like this." He reached to move the shower head so water rained down on her face and head. His hands continued moving through her hair. Slowly, they turned so he was under the cascading water. Sara poured shower gel into her hand and began to lather it between her palms. "Isn't there a bar of soap?" he asked.

"Tell me your idea and I'll find soap." She giggled. He loved to hear her giggle. She sounded like a little kid with no worries. He suspected that she had not giggled enough in childhood.

She never found a bar of soup. They didn't really dry off as they got out of the shower with other things on their mind. And a damp bed did nothing to disrupt their actions. A while later, they moved to the other half of the king-size bed.

"We are staying an extra day." He whispered as she moved to wrap them both in the covers. She giggled again as she cuddled against his chest.

The first thing Sara heard in the morning was Grissom talking on his phone. She covered her head with a pillow until he sat beside her on the bed.

"Stay here and sleep. I'm going down to 'network' with a bunch I've known for years. Show up when you want to; we can meet for dinner."

She nodded. "I guess Sofia will be looking for you."

His hand touched her hair as he kissed her forehead. "She's not the one I sleep with…and do other things with." His hand moved along her arm and to her waist. "It's this woman I hate to leave." His hands pulled her up.

"I have morning breath and you are clean and fresh."

"I don't care." His lips met hers in a long passionate kiss. "Go back to sleep. I'll call you later."

She curled with his pillow as he pulled covers over her and slipped quietly from the room, hanging the "Do not disturb" sign on the door as he left.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Reminder that we do not own these characters, CSI, or CBS

A/N: _Reminder that we do not own these characters, CSI, or CBS. Too bad. We do own an alarm clock, a little Louisiana mud, and a Pat O'Brian's glass filled with Mardi Gras beads. _

Chapter 10

Sara reviewed the list of topics, checking two or three she wanted to hear. She had not seen Grissom since early this morning and she wasn't looking for Sofia. They both found her.

"There you are." Sofia called, wearing an expensive suit, and arriving with Grissom. "We've had breakfast and decided which meetings to attend. What about you?"

Sara thought about telling her where Grissom had spent the night, but instead waved the conference agenda. "I've found several of interest. DNA, scanners and documents, even one on psychology and behavior. I think I'll be busy."

Just then a male voice said Sara's name. They turned in its direction. A tall young man stood looking at Sara. Grissom knew he had seen this guy somewhere; Sara looked puzzled.

"Sara Sidle, right? I've looked for you for years." He walked forward with hand outstretched.

"Yes, I—I am trying to remember you." She shook his hand.

The young man smiled bashfully. "You probably don't remember me. Dave Dews. I was a deputy at the time, conference near San Francisco, dead guy. I interviewed you one morning for just a few minutes."

Sara remembered the uniformed young man coming into a hotel room seven years ago. How had he remembered her? She looked around. Sofia stood there, but Grissom had disappeared.

"Ah, yes, I do remember you now. Where are you working?" She was trying to be polite and escape at the same time. Sofia was showing too much interest in this man from the past.

"After that day, I decided to check out forensics. Got a master's degree and today I'm working with the state of California, live in Sacramento. Small world, isn't it? Where are you?"

Sofia remained where she was.

Sara pointed to the conference schedule. "I'm on my way to a meeting. Would you like to walk with me? Sofia, I'll catch up with you later." And she started down the hallway with Dave Dews beside her. She certainly did not want Sofia hearing any more of this conversation.

He continued to talk telling her what kind of work he was doing, never referring to how he remembered her or the circumstances. When they arrived at the meeting room, he left with the promise of finding her again before leaving New Orleans. He was the last person she wanted to see again. Then she smiled at the disappearance of Gil Grissom.

By mid-afternoon, she was numb with information overload and left looking for food, drinks, both, and sun. In the lobby, she saw Grissom, a part of that group at any conference who learns more outside of meetings than most do attending organized events. He waved and got up to follow her as she exited the revolving door.

"Wait!" He called as she headed onto the sidewalk. "I'll go with you." He caught her arm and pulled her hand into the crook of his arm. "Let's disappear for a while, find food, ride a streetcar. Beautiful day to be in New Orleans."

She smiled. "Yeah, and we can talk about breakfast and that fast disappearing act this morning." She laughed. "How long did it take for you to realize who that guy was?"

It was his turn to laugh. "About seven seconds too long! I knew I needed to get outta there fast. Did he say anything else?"

"Not about that. Just talked about work. I think I'll avoid him for the next few days. Now tell me about breakfast with Sofia?" She raised her eyebrows as she looked at him.

"Honey." He looked at her to see her smile and realized she was teasing. "She joined me and eight or nine others. She says stuff like that to get a reaction out of you. And, I must say, you do an excellent job of ignoring her."

They crossed the street. "Bourbon Street." He pointed to a street sign. "Too early for the night life. We'll come back later, but there is a great place to eat around the next corner."

Probably not vegetarian, Sara thought, but she would find something.

The place was crowded even at mid-afternoon. Grissom immediately ordered both a local beer as they looked at the menu. He ordered a plate of food that included fish, sausage, and several other things. Sara ordered red beans and rice. When food arrived, two pieces of sausage lay on top of her beans. Grissom reached over forking both pieces onto his plate.

"Now it's vegetarian." He said smiling.

They ate; it was good food. Other people joined their table; strangers sharing a table seemed to be the custom in this place. Sara was handed a camera and took pictures of the group.

Afterwards, they crossed Canal at St. Charles for the streetcar. Sara said it reminded her of San Francisco, except for the lack of hills and the heat. They found seats as the old green car made its way along the busy street, stopping every few blocks to discharge tourists and locals, picking up schoolchildren in uniforms and hotel maids heading home. The rotating sounds of wheels and track, the hum of electricity as it powered the vehicle, and the gentle rocking as the car made its way along a path of history of the city kept both of them acting like tourists. Grissom had done this before and pointed out houses built when wood was cheap and artisans designed and built homes before contractors built boxes they called houses. Even fences were put in place as artistic statements.

"This is a step back in time." Sara said as the wind came in windows and cooled the inside of the streetcar.

Grissom stood to let an older woman have his seat. She commented "It's good to see good manners are still alive, young man." They both smiled. Two miles later, she stood to leave. "There's an excellent cemetery at this stop. If you are interested in that sort of thing. Our cemeteries are different from any where else."

Sara and Grissom looked at each other and got off with her. They walked several blocks along residential sidewalks until they found the cemetery. It was unlike any they had seen. Graves were not in the ground, but above, and covered with small vault structures, decorated with angels, crosses, stone flowers, vases, birds, and symbols of all descriptions.

Sara traced an inscription with her finger. "This is not the way I want to be remember, Gil."

His arm circled her shoulders. "As Pip tells us in _Great Expectations_ he did not know his parents but decided what they must have looked like from the shapes of the lettering on their gravestones. I would imagine photographs have done much to the decline of these visual symbols of lives gone."

She looked at him in amazement. "What else is in that brain of yours?" She said with a laugh. "I just don't want to be buried in some stone monument—or buried under the ground either."

He pulled her closer. "I'll wear your ashes around my neck." She laughed again as his phone rang. He frowned as he brought it up check the caller. As he answered, he placed a finger on her lips.

"Grissom." He listened to the caller, saying yes a few times, before telling the caller where he was. "I have Sara Sidle with me." Another minute passed as the caller talked. "Ok, we will wait on the corner."

He snapped the phone shut and turned to her smiling. "Ready for an adventure?"

"I don't know. What kind of adventure?"

"Riverboat ride. Dead body. Alligators and some kind of fish." He started out of the cemetery. "A car is going to pick us up at the corner. It'll be fun. How many times do we get to fish a body out of the Mississippi?"

Somehow, she did not think this was the adventure she wanted; but he was right. She might never have this 'adventure' again. Fifteen minutes later they were crawling into the back seat of a police cruiser.

"I'm supposed to take you folks down by the river." The young policeman drawled making every word at least three syllables. "But I think we need a station stop first. You don't want to get on the boat wearing those nice things."

He talked about the neighborhoods as he drove saying names that sounded as if they came from another century, certainly from another part of the world; pulling to a stop in front of a police station, he said "We can get boots here." He glanced at Sara. "Maybe something else for you to wear. It's pretty wet and muddy where we are heading."

In a few minutes, boots were brought out; Sara was given coveralls and ushered into a locker room to change. A dark haired woman gave her a bag for her clothes. "Honey, do you know what they are getting you in to?" She asked, her accent unlike the slow drawl of the policeman.

Sara had already realized that everyone was 'honey' in this town. "A dead body in the river is all I know."

"This your first time?" She asked, a real concern in her voice.

"No, not for a body, but yes, for the Mississippi River."

"You tell them, if they try anything, Evangeline will be after them like white on rice. Put your boots on. I'll keep your good things here." She opened up a locker so Sara could place her clothes inside. "And make sure they feed you."

Sara knew what she looked like in coveralls and with borrowed boots on her feet, she could imagine how great she looked. And the coveralls were green camouflage. The men were waiting and barely noticed when she arrived; Grissom appeared to know most of the group. A police vehicle took them through more neighborhoods of simple wood houses, porches filled with families in the late afternoon sun, and kids running along sidewalks. Smells of food penetrated the air conditioned interior. In the backseat, Sara heard the others talk of 'the holy trinity' and food; they were not talking about church but cooking. Grissom turned her way several times, giving her a raised eyebrow. She responded with a smile or thumbs up.

"Watch your step." One of the men took Sara's hand as she climbed from the back seat. They had stopped on a concrete pier and steep steps descended into the river where a boat waited.

The boat looked small against the muddy river, yet a dozen people had already climbed on board, walking a narrow metal plank stretched between the river's edge and the boat. Sara looked at debris along the water's edge, mostly man-tossed trash, and all moving and swirling with the current.

She looked up to find Grissom standing in the boat with his hand toward hers, smiling. "You ok?" He asked. She nodded a yes, and found a place to grip a rail. Her presence was acknowledged with several quiet "miss" and a touch to a hat.

The man in charge was the last to jump into the boat and everyone swayed with the movement as he moved to the front. He turned and found Sara waving for her to move forward. She hesitated a few second until several others moved so she could step to the front. The group appeared at ease with visitors, already several were talking with Grissom, and hands that reached to steady her steps were ones of polite manners. She thought of Nick.

Quickly, the boat moved down river with the current, the engine purred before becoming a deep growl as they moved toward the center of the broad river. Sara noticed the smells of the river, part fuel, part mud and decay, and wet. Even in the rain, Las Vegas never smelled this way. The boat made another turn leaving the wide river and entering a smaller waterway. The man beside her pointed ahead where several other boats were pulled to the edge.

As the boat slowed, the man asked, "Do you know what you are going to see?" She shook her head. He grinned. "Get ready. It's not pretty, but it's a sight you will get to see one time in your life. He said you worked investigations." His thumb pointed back to where Grissom stood.

"I'll be fine, really." Sara affirmed, thinking what on earth had Grissom gotten her into.

The boat bumped another boat. Here there were no steps, just muddy water—swamp, Sara realized as the men began jumping into the water and wadding into dark green goo. Grissom waited for her, giving his hand to her as she followed the pattern of others and jumped. At least she had on boots and someone's coverall; Grissom had on his best clothes and looked completely pleased with whatever was coming.

The others reached hands to pull the new arrivals to a dryer spot. Sara realized it was not really dry, just a few inches higher than the muddy liquid they had jumped into. Multiple voices cascaded around them and in an instant; Sara and Grissom realized they did not understand a word being said.

Seeing their confusion, one of the men explained, "Cajun trappers. They have their own language down here—part English, mostly Cajun French. They are trying to decide what to do with the nest."

"Nest?" Sara asked.

"Baby alligators, a dozen or more. But that's not what we came to see."

Sara noticed two other women in the crowd of two dozen. Whatever this was must be big to get this many people in this remote spot late on Friday afternoon. She and Grissom moved forward and saw yellow crime tape stretched around a depression filled with swampy water. Two people using buckets dipped and poured water through a screen filter. There was no mistaking what was in the water—one bloated body floated on top. A leg was missing, so was an arm. Around the edge floated more debris—human. Sara started counting, at least three skulls. She looked at Grissom, eyes wide.

**A/N**_**:**__ Away for a few days, but the next chapter is almost ready! Thanks for your comments!_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What on earth?" Grissom started counting. Another bone came up in a bucket.

The guy in charge reached for the bone and passed it to Grissom. "I knew you would like this." Two men spread plastic out beside the water and begin the job of getting the floating body on the tarp.

"Grissom turned the bone over several times. "Teeth marks?" He could see multiple grooves in the long bone. "Animal bites?"

Sara looked around to see everyone watching Grissom. Suddenly, the shoe dropped, as they say. She knew what this was. "Gator hole." She said. Grissom looked at her, still puzzled. Several of the men smiled. The girl had figured it out.

Several yards away, a mound of dead leaves, twigs, tree limbs and mud rose above the surrounding swamp. The men referred to as 'Cajun trappers' were circling this mound with netting.

Another man explained. "This guy fell off a boat three days ago up river. We've been watching for him to come up. This morning, men on a barge saw this big alligator swimming across the river, dragging something in clothes behind him—her. Watched as she swam up here. We got boats out and started looking. Angie found the path and drag tracks and walked up on this." He pointed to one of the women. "She's been in these swamps all her life, knew what she was walking up on but never imagined she'd find multiples."

The trappers had been called and the big alligator was now wrapped, bundled, and strapped to the bottom of one of the boats. The nest contained a number of baby alligators. Now, they had numerous skulls, at least four, pulled from this murky pool.

"Who's skulls?" Sara asked. She had their attention from 'gator hole.'

Several shrugged, and one said, "We may never know. We'll keep them, try to find missing persons. Some probably floated from way up river. Some may have come from a washed out cemetery along the river."

Another man added, "Yeah, yeah, you hope they all came from upriver; probably thrown in right past the Quarter!" The others chuckled and made efforts to find something to do.

Grissom was walking around the hole when a sudden noise from the mound caught everyone's attention. The trappers were pulling wiggling, hissing little alligators from the nest, wrapping tape around mouths and placing them in sacks.

"What happens to those?" Sara asked. Grissom looked up in time to catch one of the trapper's eyes. He wanted to send this guy a message. The old man matched his words with Grissom's look.

"Ahhh, missy, we take these little 'ums to the farm down there a-ways. They be fed, taken good care of. We love our 'gators here in Louisiana." His accent was so thick that Grissom barely understood his words, but Sara got the message. She gave that face changing broad grin and nodded, then turned back to the bones. Grissom winked at the guy who gave him a slight knowing nod of his head. These would go to a farm, until they were big enough for shoes, belts, and whatever else they could be used for; alligators grew too fast and too plentiful in swamps for protection laws.

Sara and Grissom joined others in looking at bones, mostly long ones, being laid out. Another skull was pulled from the water.

A man swore when it came up. "How deep is that water in there?" He asked. "Do we need a pump?"

More buckets appeared as more people began to help remove water, pouring everything through the netting. Sara noticed that water kept rising with every bucket filled, but now several men stood in the water reaching hands into water.

Their talk centered on missing persons and how long the bones had been in this hole. The trappers were busy with the nest. One of the women passed a camera to Sara so she could see photos taken shortly after they arrived. The big alligator was nearly eight feet long.

"Probably been living here for years," she said. "Raising babies, finding food. She just brought what she found from along the river." She shook her head. "These men don't think like women. This mama just like the rest of us, looking out for her babies."

"You think these bodies were all dead when she brought them here?" Sara asked.

"Sure, honey. Gators don't kill too many in Louisiana. We learn early to avoid them. Different story in Florida. People try to make them a pet over there." She turned to the men, calling, "How many gator killings we had, who remembers one?"

The men discussed this topic for a few minutes before coming up with one known death by alligator in a decade. Grissom was pouring water through the netting, talking and laughing with others.

The older trapper approached Sara holding a small alligator with his mouth taped. "Missy, you wanna hold one? He can't hurt with his mouth taped shut."

Sara took the animal after the man showed her how to hold him. "He's softer than I would expect." She said as she inspected his back and belly. She passed him back.

The old man watched her closely. "You from a-round here?" He asked; Sara had to listen intently to understand his words.

"No, Las Vegas."

"Don't have gators out there, do you? Too much desert."

She agreed. "Not much water, true."

He said something in Cajun French, then translated. "You look like your mama from here."

Sara shook her head. "I don't think so."

The man turned to the others and said something, waving back at Sara. Then he addressed Grissom, again with words that neither could understand. The others laughed, with one man translating the message.

"Mr. Grissom, tomorrow night, you two invited to a party down in St. Bernard's parish. Trapper wants to dance with your woman!"

Sara sniggered at the look on his face. Grissom clearly wanted to get out of that adventure.

The man in charge—she remembered his name was Joe—begin explaining to the trapper that they were attending a meeting and would not be able to get to his party. More words were exchanged; both laughing. Finally, Joe turned to Grissom, then Sara. "He insists we all come. Saturday night, food, live music, dancing." He said to Sara, "It's good family fun. Be the best party you ever go to. What do you say? I'll pick you up."

Sara agreed; Grissom smiled and nodded. Then added, "We have another woman who may want to go."

The alligator trapper smiled and slapped everyone on the back; except for the women. He tried to hug them. Sara followed the example of the two others and held her hand out to him. He smiled, eyes twinkling, saying "Tomorrow night, no boots, dancing shoes!" He and the other trapper wrapped up their sacks filled with baby alligators and headed to their boat.

_**A/N:**__ Got this chapter finished tonight. We have our own party this weekend. Check back in a few days. Thanks for reading!!_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The sun was low on the horizon before someone made the decision to leave. Several remarks were made about 'feeding time' and Sara was not sure if this meant humans or alligators. The body had been wrapped for transport while bones were bagged and numbered. The last ones had been pulled by hand from the muck. Boots were making sucking sounds as people stood too long in one spot and slowly sank into the swamp. There was no longer any resemblance of dry ground in the area where they worked.

By careful stacking, equipment and people managed to get on the boats. Sara and Grissom were as muddy as everyone else. Grissom stood beside her as their boat turned into the broad river. An ocean going ship made a long slow turn as it returned to the gulf, dwarfing their boat. Barges lined the riverbank, towering overhead.

They pulled in to the same concrete pier; now more official vehicles and more people met them. Equipment and bones were off-loaded. Sara knew she had never heard so many voices with so many accents and trying to follow conversations resulted in a jumble of words and phrases she could not understand. When she was finally in the back seat of another vehicle, she closed her eyes thinking she needed a shower.

She felt a hand on her knew. "You ok?" Grissom asked.

Without opening her eyes, she smiled, "Yes." She knew how much he enjoyed this. "Just a few minutes and I'll be fine." His hand rested on her knee.

When Sara opened her eyes, they were back where her clothes waited in a locker, where a woman named Evangeline had given her boots and coveralls.

The same woman met her at the door. "Honey, we had about given up on you." She headed to the locker room with Sara. She busied herself while Sara tugged at the boots. "We don't get many ladies visiting—especially willin' to ride down there findin' who knows what." An afternoon spent hearing locals helped Sara with the disappearance of g's and th's on words. Evangeline's voice lifted and stretched her words, a soothing tone that was easy to understand once Sara picked up the rhythm of the accent.

Sara pulled the boots off, leaned back against the row of lockers. "I am exhausted." She said.

"Those field hands didn't feed you all afternoon, did they?" Evangeline gave Sara a broad grin. "What's your poison—Coke, Pepsi, Barqs—root beer?"

"Root beer would be great."

Evangeline disappeared. Sara washed her hands and face, stripped out of the coverall and reached for her clothes. A shower could wait until the hotel. Evangeline reappeared, a root beer in one hand, a folded shirt in the other.

"Here's something to wear instead of your nice blouse." She handed the shirt to Sara; a NOPD shirt. Sara pulled it over her head.

"Thanks. I do need a shower."

The woman laughed. "Ahh, Honey, you smell like the swamp. Your partner is ready. I'll be right outside. Just give a shout-out if you need anything." At the door she turned, saying, "I heard Trapper invited you all to a party. You have to go! Best party in all Louisiana."

Sara dressed quickly, folding her own shirt inside her bag. True to her word, Evangeline, near the door, raised an eyebrow silently asking if she needed anything. Sara walked over to thank her.

"Come back to see us, Honey."

"Thanks again…boots, coveralls, this shirt. This is an interesting place."

"Yeah. You love it or hate it. One day we gonna wash away down here, but right now, we having fun, enjoying life. You come back, now."

Grissom was outside, talking with half a dozen men. His clothes were a mess, mud on his pants, and mud in his hair. Sara knew he did not care.

"Hey, you're ready! I've talked to Sofia. She's ready for dinner. I said we would meet her in an hour."

An hour, not likely, Sara thought. He took another ten minutes saying goodbye to the group, several reminding them of the party the next day.

Traffic slowed to a crawl then stopped as the big vehicle moved from street to street. The driver turned from the avenue onto smaller streets and kept moving, slowly. He asked if they had been in the Quarter. When Grissom replied with a negative, the driver made more turns until the one-way streets became narrow lined with buildings much older than the area they had left and literally leaning against each other. Their driver pushed buttons for windows to go down.

"You got to smell the Quarter!" He smiled back at Sara. "Just not the same if you can't smell." As he drove, he pointed out one restaurant after another, a music hall, a bar, an old house with a fence that looked like corn, another bar, a church, no, he corrected himself, that's St. Louis Cathedral. He turned a corner, pointed out another restaurant, saying a recognized name. It was right to drive with the windows down, Sara thought. One minute the smell was spicy and hot, then quickly changed to one of sugar and sweetness and back to spice before changing to beer and wine from an open-air bar.

Almost an hour passed before he pulled in front of their hotel. The driver opened the door for Sara. Leaving with a reminder of the party and a time for their pick-up, he left them standing on the sidewalk, looking more like the unemployed than two conference attendees.

Grissom gave her one of his eyebrow lifting half smiled, saying, "You're a good sport, Sara. Most women would have complained all afternoon." She gave his a puzzled look. "Catherine. Sofia." His head moved toward the door. "We got to clean up." His voice had taken on the local accent. "Dinner in…" he checked his watch "less than an hour."

They got to her room with no questions and only a few odd looks. Once inside, she got the first shower while Grissom returned phone calls. In a few minutes, he was in the bathroom with her. Taking the towel he passed, she wrapped it around her body and stepped out of the shower.

"I was getting in," he said.

"You can; I'm out."

"With you," he grinned. There was mud in his hair.

She held her towel. "Shower. You're the one who made these dinner arrangements."

He made a face, but stepped into the shower. "With Sofia." She added.

Grissom took his time in the shower. It took a lot of soap and hot water to get all the mud off his skin. By the time he was clean, Sara was out of the bathroom, nearly dressed. She had put his clothes in a laundry bag and called the front desk for pick-up. His clean clothes were on the bed.

"You don't have to do this." He said to her as she moved around the room, putting their things in some kind of order. When she smiled, he reached for her, pulling her to an embrace, followed by a kiss to her forehead, then her lips.

"No time." She whispered. He made a deep grunt, but broke his locked arms. "You told her." She giggled.

"We come back early. I'm tired. I'm old. I need my rest." He complained. She giggled again.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sofia called twice before Grissom finished dressing. He told her to wait in the lobby; he would call Sara. Hanging up the phone, he smiled mischievously at her.

"We could put her off another hour."

Sara grabbed her bag. "I'm going down. We'll both wait in the lobby. Hurry." She laughed as she closed the door.

Sofia paced the large lobby. Sara saw her first and watched as she walked a few steps, turned and walked the same path. Sofia had several habits Sara did not like and tonight she was doing one of them—swinging her long blonde hair across her shoulder with every turn. Another was how she flirted with Grissom; and he would flirt back. It hurt more than she would admit, but lately she had decided that was just his way. He would flirt with other women but he never loved them, or made love to them. She felt better just thinking about him. Maybe she could get through this dinner.

"Where have you been?" Sofia's tone was at once curious and demanding. "I've looked for you in several seminars."

Certain Grissom had told her they were together, Sara answered with another question, "Have you found a good place to eat?"

"Several. I made the decision to make reservations for tonight. Have you talked to Grissom about tonight?"

"I have. I'm sure it's a good place." Small talk was never her strong point; why had she left Grissom in the room, she thought.

At that moment, he arrived. Swept in with a group of men, all talking at once. Grissom introduced both women to the group, asking Sofia the name of the restaurant. Several of the men knew the place, gave mixed up directions to get there, and wished them good night.

Quickly, they were on the street and walking in the French Quarter. Several blocks and one wrong turn later, they found the restaurant complete with a doorman in white gloves and an open-air courtyard for waiting. Sara remembered the place from their quick tour in the police car. Now, not only the restaurant, but the streets were filled with people, some meandering along sightseeing, others rushing to meet friends or late for dinner, and others playing the role of entertainment along the streets. Sara let Sofia talk while she watched customers and employees. Everyone smiled; everyone laughed; everyone talked and ate, all at the same time.

With first drinks still in their hands, they were shown to their table. They were taken to a booth, Sofia moved across the bench seat for Grissom to sit beside her. Instead of taking the seat, he touched Sara's arm and indicated he would sit across from the two women. Before Sofia looked up, Sara was beside her and Grissom was across the table. Quick move on his part, Sara thought. She smiled.

They talked about food; the waiter came with descriptions and took orders. Sara was quiet. Grissom talked about their 'field trip' and Sofia asked questions. A few comments or questions were directed at Sara which she answered concisely. Then she felt Grissom's foot against her's. She smiled at him. Sofia was busy talking.

When their food arrived, all conversation ceased for ten minutes except as it related to what was on their plates.

Sofia looked at Sara's plate, saying, "I thought you were vegetarian, Sara."

"I am. But I will eat with people who are not."

"How can you find food?" She seemed to be too interested in what Sara was eating.

Sara looked at their plates. She said, "I order pasta with cheese or cream. Any good restaurant will prepare special orders. At a place like this, every order is special. It's not that difficult." She scooped a fork full of food, saying, "I'm trying to save the planet. What are you doing?"

Grissom coughed and she ran her foot up his leg. He coughed again. "Sofia, we've been invited to a party tomorrow night. Would you like to go with us?"

Her attention riveted by his words, she turned back to Grissom. He related the story of the trapper's invitation, saying the others had assured him the party was a good one.

Sara would be happy if Sofia found an excuse not to go. She decided to add to this conversation. "The alligator trapper is the one giving the party."

Sofia asked, "Where is this party?"

Grissom shrugged. Sofia looked at Sara and she gave the same motion with her shoulders. "They are picking us up in a van." Sara added.

Sofia looked from Grissom to Sara. "And you two are going?"

"Sure." This from Grissom. "It will be fun. Plan to go."

"I'll think about it."

Dinner was an unhurried event. Food was finished, plates were removed, and more food appeared on their table. Even dessert became an event as bananas were flamed at their table in the restaurant's signature finish. All three enjoyed their meals, the ambiance and atmosphere of this place just as thousands of tourists before them had.

Afterwards, they walked the streets of the French Quarter, gradually making their way to the gaudiest party street in America. Being from Las Vegas, the three thought they had seen everything, but walking along Bourbon Street, they talked about what was happening in the bars, the strip joints and the tacky souvenir stores. People stood in the street and waved from balconies. Hot dog venders claimed street corners. Boys too young to enter bars danced, sang, and played horns and drums along the street.

Grissom was the first to turn into a side street. "Ladies, I'm too old for this!" The two women followed him. In a few minutes, the noise and lights were behind them. He was the first to see the statue. "Look." He pointed, first to the sky, then to the white statue in a courtyard. Ahead of them they could see the full moon, a silhouette of the cathedral, and, in the center of a spotlight, a stone monument of a saint.

"Is it always like this?" Sofia was the first to speak.

"Not unless they manage a full moon every night," this comment from Sara.

They moved on after a few minutes, walking one of the oldest streets in the city. Antique shops lined the sidewalk displaying glittering chandeliers, European furniture, funerary and cemetery art, and hundreds of pieces of history from around the world. Sara and Sofia slowed to window shop. Both found things they liked; Grissom waited.

The quietness of the hotel lobby was sharp contrast to Bourbon Street a few blocks away. Grissom hit elevator buttons for three floors, stepping off at the first stop, saying "See you tomorrow," waving his hand he disappeared. Sofia was next, leaving Sara alone in the elevator. She got off on her floor and waited. Within seconds another elevator opened, and Grissom stepped off, smiling.

"Slick." Sara said.

His arm circled her waist. "This is hard. All night, I've wanted to touch you."

"Not all day, when I was covered with mud and alligator muck?" She giggled.

He lifted his eyebrow and grinned. "Work is work. It's this social stuff…" he kissed her before she could open the door. "Now, get in this room. I still have just enough energy left for something else."

Sara giggled again. The door closed. Grissom's hands moved to hold her face as he kissed her, slowly, passionately, and she responded.

Later, they lay gathered into one another's arms and legs, Sara's head cradled against his shoulder. For two independent and self-sufficient adults, this time was when both realized how emotionally attached they were. Neither could put this into words—yet.

"Sara," his finger traced her jaw, "Move in with me. We can live together."

She pulled back to see his face, a very serious expression on it. "I don't think so," she answered.

"We can do this. I like having you around…it's more than having you around, it's more than being in bed with you."

Sara turned to face him. She tingled with the closeness and the heat of his body. He always did this to her; he knew it. She found it hard to think logically when he held her like this.

"Griss—Gil," she pulled her arms up so her hands could touch his face as well as put a few millimeters of space between them. He pulled her closer. "You know we can't do that. Someone would find out. It's hard enough now to keep this secret."

He kissed her; or she kissed him; neither was keeping score. "We can do it. Think about it."

Sara nestled her head against his neck. "You know Ecklie. He would roast me on a stick, eat me for lunch, and come back for seconds."

It was Grissom's turn to laugh. "No love lost there, Honey. We'll cross Ecklie when we get there. Think about it. We can make it work." His hands worked along her back pulling her closer.

Neither needed much sleep but used the darkness for other desires.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

In the quiet of the room, Sara knew he was not asleep. Her hand searched to find his, folding her fingers within his hand.

"It's hard to sleep when we are usually awake," she spoke as he brought her hand to his lips.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested. "It's New Orleans. I know just the place."

Sara reached for the clock. "It's three in the morning."

"Perfect time." He was out of bed, reaching for the clothes he had worn at dinner.

"Dressing up?" She asked as she followed him.

He looked at her, then his clothes. "These are fine."

She found jeans and her official NOPD t-shirt. She reasoned that a walk at three o'clock did not require her best slacks and sweater. In a few minutes both were dressed; he was making their destination a big secret.

Dawn was several hours away but night and early morning workers were already moving along streets making echoing sounds against dark buildings. Grissom pulled her close wrapping one arm around her shoulders. She did the same with her arm and they smiled. This did not happen often.

He was the first to put it in words. "I think we're safe." He kissed her quickly at first, then longer as they stopped underneath a street light. "You are keeping me from my mission, Miss Sidle." He said as they started walking again. They headed into the Quarter.

"You know," he said, "we could go public. Catherine could supervise you."

"No." She had said this before. "I don't want that. I want my private life private. I'm happy just the way it is. Are you?" She tightened the grip she had on him.

"I want you happy." He hugged her closer. "I'd be happier if you moved in with me."

Her fingers tickled his ribs. "I'll think about it. You would have to do something with all those live bugs you keep."

"Mmmm—my bugs or my girlfriend," he mused. Hugging her with one arm, he said, "The girlfriend wins every time." She smiled.

He knew where they were going and quickly found the cathedral; lights making it appear as white a new snow in another part of the world. They turned to face the park.

"Who's the guy on the horse?" Sara asked as they passed the tall iron gates closing the park to all night visitors.

Grissom looked up, thinking. "I think that's Andrew Jackson. Jackson Square, that would make sense." They darted across another deserted street. A block away, lights were on in a café. To Sara's surprise, customers in small groups clustered around tiny tables. A few waiters lined the wall.

"Café du Monde—have you heard of it?" Grissom asked. Sara shook her head. "They only serve two things, coffee and donuts." She looked puzzled. "Only it's not a donut like Dunkin, no hole, and square."

As soon as they found a table, a waiter was standing by their side. He quickly explained the menu, glued to the napkin container. The menu had several descriptions of coffee and hot chocolate—Sara ordered the hot chocolate. Grissom ordered decaf coffee and beignets, telling her she was in for a surprise.

Almost as quickly, cups filled with hot liquids were before them as well as a plate of fried beignets totally hidden under fine powdered sugar. Grissom lifted one, knocking off some of the sugar and bit into it. Sara followed with her own. Sugar floated across the table, down their shirts, and both laughed, causing more sugar to cascade to a surface.

Sara reached for a napkin. Grissom's mouth and chin looked as if some fairy had sprinkled white dust across his face. She wiped sugar from his chin as he grinned. He gently took her hand. His blue eyes met her brown ones.

"I love you, Sara."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sara dropped her hand. She knew she had not heard him correctly even if the stillness of early morning made it easy to hear conversations several feet away.

"What?" she asked.

His eyes dropped as he lifted her hand. She had the paper napkin in her fingers. "Let me say this clearly—Sara, I love you. Not for your work, not for your cooking, not for picking up my mud covered clothes, not even for great sex, even though that is a wonderful part of you; I just love you."

She didn't know what to say, nor could she imagine what had prompted him to say this now. She tried to think if he had ever said words like this to her, even in bed. "Grissom—Gil," her face broke into a broad smile. That is all she could do.

He kissed her hand in an old-fashioned way, took the crumpled napkin and wiped her chin. "You have a little sugar right there." He smiled.

She picked up her cup, her hand shaking as she brought the hot liquid to her mouth. She thought of something and sat the cup down.

"You know I…" she began.

He touched her face. "I know, I know."

Without saying much more, they finished their plate of New Orleans donuts, sugar dropping and drifting around the plate, onto their shirts, and even into her hair. Afterwards, they walked along the river bank. Grissom tasted sugar and chocolate as he kissed her on the walk back. She kept her hand in his until they reached the hotel.

Dawn was on the horizon when he opened the door to her room. He placed the 'Do not Disturb' sign on its handle.

Slowly, he undressed her while she kissed his hair, his neck, his shoulder, her fingers finding his shirt buttons. She was the one to push him onto the bed, her eyes bright with excitement. He tasted of coffee when she kissed him and carefully she teased him holding his lip between her teeth.

The last conscious thought she had as waves of light washed over her was how much she loved this man and in a husky whisper, she told him. He heard her as an explosion of passion swept him into that sea of complete surrender. He would never be what he was; and in admitting that, he knew he was where he wanted to be.

Hours later, the sun was bright outside as he finished dressing. Sara was asleep, beneath a heap of covers. He had opened the drapes enough for light to enter the room. She stirred when he sat on the bed beside her.

"Hi, Sleepyhead." He whispered.

"Hi, yourself." Her voice responded.

"I'm going downstairs. Take your time. I'll leave the sign on the door."

She rolled over. "Did we really go eat donuts at three in the morning? Or was that a dream?"

He laughed. "Wasn't a dream. Neither was what happened later."

She blushed.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled.

"So am I." He stood. "I'll see you later. Remember our party tonight—you still want to go?"

She nodded again and pulled herself up in bed. "Even if I have to put up with Sofia."

He laughed again. "She isn't so bad, is she? This should be interesting entertainment. Eat something. I'm pretty sure you won't find a lot of vegetarian food where we are going."

It was Sara's turn to laugh. "I might be wrong, but you may be eating that eight food alligator tonight." She faked a shiver. "I'll find something before we leave. Poor alligator."

He kissed her before he left. She lay back in bed, reached for the remote and turned on the television. Almost noon, she thought, they had gotten some good sleep. She smiled as she flipped to local weather.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sara attended two seminars before Sofia found her. Her first question was about the party invitation.

"What's up with the party? Do you know anything?" she asked.

Sara related what she knew which was not much. "Everyone said it was a great party, so I'm going."

Sofia smiled and said, "I'm going. I want to see Grissom at a party."

Sara had to smile at the same thought. Parties were not his usual habitat, especially parties with an alligator trapper and who knows who else. She supplied Sofia with time of departure, then made a quick exit for another seminar. She knew the department gossip about Sofia being too friendly with Ecklie.

Later, she escaped the building in search of food, finding a small place making sandwiches to order. After describing their own special mix of olives and peppers, she walked away with a huge sandwich wrapped in white paper and a 'go' cup of cold tea. Obviously, people loved food here. Customers were already filling restaurants, even standing in line waiting for doors to open for dinner. She made it back to Jackson Square and found a bench to eat her sandwich.

Sofia and Grissom were waiting for her in the hotel lobby. Sofia had dressed for a party in a slim fitting dress; Sara had already decided to wear her working clothes—she traveled light and her 'party' clothes on this trip were the ones she had worn to dinner last night.

Joe, the police officer from the river trip, arrived at five o'clock in his SUV, his pregnant wife in the front seat, and three kids sitting tightly in the rear seat, leaving the middle seat for them. He introduced his wife, Grace, and named the three children. His wife bailed out of the front seat, insisting Grissom take her place. She placed her self in the middle of the seat saying their visitors needed the windows.

In a few minutes, they were moving south, or west, crossing a bridge, the men talked, the kids giggled and laughed, the wife pointed out churches, restaurants, a house, even a corner bar known for jazz music. The landscape changed from city to suburbs, to small houses described by Grace as 'shotgun' houses built of wood a hundred years ago. Joe announced they had left New Orleans and were now in another city. A few more turns and the vehicle pulled to a stop, the kids in the rear seat squealing with arrival delight. They had kept a constant stream of talk going telling the two women how much fun everyone would have.

The building they entered was some type of social club organization, long screened windows along three sides, shaded with wooden shutters, already filled with people. A band grouped at one end of the long room. Tables and chairs lined the walls and crowded the other end. Children of all ages played in the open center. Along one wall was a kitchen. The smells of spice and grilled meats met their noses. The kids were immediately lost in the crowd. Joe's wife headed to the kitchen and Joe took Sara's and Sofia's hands leading them around the room, introducing all three to so many people with similar names, that names were forgotten before turning to others. The music group warmed up, each person playing a short solo of their own. Women appeared in front of the trio with plates, no platters, heaped heavy with foods. Kids scampered from a table when told so the three could have the best table, center front to the open area, which was fast becoming a dance floor.

Sara looked at her plate. Someone had passed the message that she was vegetarian; her plate was filled with salads, several vegetables, and bread with no meat to be found. In contrast, Sofia and Grissom had plates filled with fish, shrimp, sausage, fried chicken, and another bowl arrived filled with small bright red crayfish—Sara had seen t-shirts and photos of these little creatures during their walk last night. She wasn't sure how one ate this particular food; unlike Grissom who was already diving into the bowl with one hand while one of Joe's children had taken on the job of demonstrating how to eat a crayfish. Sara looked at Sofia who was looking at the bowl in amazement—she did not look like she was going to eat it either. She glanced at Sara and shook her head. Both knew that Grissom would eat anything.

Having eaten the huge sandwich shortly before leaving, Sara ate all she could. Women kept coming around offering more food; Grissom took it all. The first song played by the band got couples on the dance floor. Kids danced with each other; grandfathers danced with beautiful granddaughters, and handsome sons danced with mothers. The three visitors watched.

It was dancing not familiar to them. Couples held hands; steps flowed around the dance floor to the rhythm of the music. Two young men, barely teenagers, approached Sofia and Sara asking them to dance. At first, they both shook their heads, but an older man took their hands, one on each side, and in a familiar voice explained to the women that the boys were there to lead them, just follow. Sara looked closer at the man realizing he was the alligator trapper! Cleaned up in a long sleeve white shirt and ironed jeans, he looked unlike the mud covered man from the river. Sara looked back at the table to find Grissom surrounded by not one, but three women, pulling him to the dance floor. She glanced at Sofia who was intently listening to the young man with her.

Music played and people danced. Surprised at how easy it was to follow his lead, within minutes Sara was dancing. Sofia was near her, but Grissom was lost in the crowd. She knew he could dance and she gave her partner a broad smile thinking about it.

The night passed quickly. People danced, laughed, and talked; the band played and sang, and Sara, Sofia, and Grissom rarely sat down. Sara watched as Grissom danced with Sofia, fast moving music that left both breathless and resting in chairs next to her. A child appeared with bottles of cold beer. Grissom drained his bottle.

The music slowed. An older man appeared asking Sofia to dance. Grissom turned to Sara.

"This is one for us." He took her hand and they moved to the center of the floor. His arm circled her. "Are you having fun?" He asked. The music was softer, slower, and Sara could swear that lights dimmed.

"I am." She smiled and maintained a discrete distance between them. "This has been a great party." She directed her head to a corner where sleepy, tired children rested. "Even the kids are having fun."

"It's difficult to dance with you," he smiled, "this near and I want to be closer."

She giggled quietly. "Behave yourself." He backed away but kept his hand on her back, bringing their hands together on his chest.

"I'll have you in the room tonight."

She pretended to ignore him and smiled as Sofia passed them on the dance floor.

The lights had dimmed in a signal that the party was near its end. As if by magic, the food was gone, kids were gathered, the band played a few more songs, and people drifted to cars. Joe's three kids were nearly asleep when they crawled in the rear seat and within minutes, soft snores were heard. Grace insisted that Grissom ride back in the front seat and she, again, took the middle of the bench seat.

The two men talked in the front while the three women talked about other things. The party, the social club organization, the children, and the differences in living here and in the west were topics of conversation as the three asked questions and discussed Louisiana and Las Vegas.

At the hotel, Grissom ducked into the bar, leaving Sara and Sofia alone in the elevator.

Sofia said, "That was a fun party. I didn't know Grissom could dance. You two seemed pretty close on that last one."

Sara suppressed a giggle, but kept her tone light, saying, "I think there's a lot we don't know about Grissom. And it looked like you and the old guy were pretty tight by the end." She pressed the button for her floor. "If I don't get to bed soon, I'll be on the floor."

Sofia agreed. "We should leave for the airport at the same time."

Sara shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be ready. I don't even know what time we leave." She already knew that she and Grissom were staying another day, but decided to let Grissom tell her.

Inside her room, she turned on the shower and stepped in. Afterwards, she found her roommate stretched across the bed, almost asleep.

"Move over," she nuzzled close. He still smelled of spicy foods and beer and smoke. He barely moved. She tugged to pull bedcovers.

"Come here." His hand reached out to her. "I want to feel you." She slipped next to him across the bed. "Sara, Sara," he whispered as his hand touched her. His hands caressed her as his lips followed. "Beautiful, beautiful Sara." Her night gown slipped off. She lay naked as he undressed quickly.

In the soft lamplight, his hands moved to those secret places of desire, his lips warmed her skin. She responded as he knew she would. If the dance has been anticipation, this was the culmination. This quiet man with gentle hands possessed her as no one else had ever done. Before, she had known he was all this and more, but in these hours in this humid, southern city, after dancing with strangers, she realized a subtle change had occurred. It was no longer her passion, but his that pulled him to her. What had happened to them was no different than what had happened between couples for thousands of years; yet, as with all others, they truly believed they were the first to experience this.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Grissom was up early, showered and looking better than he has a right too when Sara's head appeared from underneath the sheet.

"You have to tell Sofia she's flying back alone." Sara watched as he went through his suitcase. "What are you looking for?"

His face broke into a grin when he said, "She'll know soon enough. I'll call her in a few minutes. She's left messages already." He stood and looked around the room. "I know I had another shirt."

"Closet." Sara pointed.

His smile got bigger. "And you, you have about an hour to get dressed. We have a reservation for brunch."

She scrambled from bed. In the night she had put on his shirt and now, seeing her head to the bathroom, Grissom pulled her to him. His phone in one hand was already ringing Sofia's number. Sara kissed him as she heard Sofia's voice. It took him a few seconds to say anything. Sara kissed him again, running her hand through his hair.

Quickly, he lied, telling Sofia that somehow his reservations had been made for tomorrow, not today. Sara's were the same, so she would be leaving with him. He said yes several times before saying the connection was not clear and closing the phone.

"Too many questions." He said as he returned Sara's kisses. "Now I've got to show up in the lobby. You get dressed; I'll be back in a few." He was out the door.

Sofia met him in the lobby. "What's so important?" He asked, disguising his own frustration at Sofia's request to see him downstairs.

Her bags were by her side as she said, "I was really hoping this would be a better trip than it's been." Her smile and eyes kept no secrets from Grissom.

Grissom, thinking it better to act unaware of her intentions, said, "I thought we had a good time at the party. Didn't you find several seminars that interested you?"

She chuckled as she touched his shoulder, saying, "Grissom, I was hoping for more time with you, not one dance at the local dance hall."

He looked at her with what he hoped was no expression on his face. "We have plenty of time at work. I—I need to go; got several guys waiting on me." He backed several steps away. "Have a good flight back. Tell Ecklie I'm looking at some of the scanners being developed—maybe get a free one to use in the lab." He kept backing away, "And tell him Sara—she's a big help. You know how she is."

Sofia picked up her bags. She wanted Grissom's attentions—personal not professional, but he was clueless when it came to the opposite sex. She wasn't sure he had ever had a real girlfriend even though she had heard the gossip in the lab about various women he encountered. Catherine said he saw everyone as a 'person' and Catherine had known him longer than anyone saying he was a lone workaholic and always would be. She sighed as she left for the airport thinking Catherine was right.

Grissom was back in the elevator. He knew what Sofia wanted. He also knew that she and Ecklie had their own history which made her demotion more difficult for her. Asking her to dinner had been Grissom's way of making that change easier but she had misread his intentions. He learned much later that Sofia had exaggerated the event in telling others about their dinner.

Sara was out of the shower by the time he opened the door, wearing nothing but a towel, and looking at her clothes. "You're back. What do I wear?" She asked knowing what he would tell her.

"Anything. Wait, no jeans." He looked down at his pants as if he could not remember what he wore. "There is a dress code."

She pulled on her black sweater and black slacks. He watched, helping her fasten her necklace when she lifted her hair. "What was downstairs? Sofia?"

How did she know, he thought. "Yeah. Wanted to…you know." He did not want to re-tell that conversation. "We need to leave."

Sara giggled. She knew Sofia's intentions. That's another reason she did not care much for her.

A taxi got them to their destination, an old family restaurant in the middle of Garden District, near the same cemetery they had walked into after leaving the streetcar. From its outside appearance, neither would have imagined the elegance and history they experienced. Sara commented that the turquoise and white Victorian structure would be at home in San Francisco.

One course followed another; empty plates quickly removed and replaced with the next selection. Nothing was hurried. Patrons were well dressed and many knew each other as well as the wait staff. A musical group moved around tables, taking requests and making every person feel that a special celebration was taking place.

Sara watched Grissom, thinking how well he fit in these circumstances. Few others would ever see this, but his old fashioned manners and comfort were well suited to this kind of atmosphere. She had seen his ease in other places and it was a part of him she admired when she felt unsure and awkward. His hand on hers brought her back from her thoughts.

"You are thinking too much."

She smiled. "You belong in a place like this."

His eyebrow lifted. "With you, I do."

Their plates were emptied and removed. Dessert arrived; the waiter cracked the soufflé top with a spoon and poured a warm sauce into its center. Sara ate all of it, declaring the bread pudding unlike any she had ever eaten.

"I'm not sure I can move," she said as she finished the last morsel.

Grissom laughed as he took her hand. "You can. We have much to see before tomorrow."

True to his statement, they saw much. They walked along streets filled with small, independent shops, where people ate at sidewalk cafes, and with open air bars playing music that drifted out to the sidewalk. Sara purchased two books at a small second-hand bookstore. Grissom found an elaborate mask, picking it up twice before leaving without it. A half block later, they turned around to return to the shop to make a purchase. The mask would be shipped to Las Vegas.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

They walked for hours along streets shaded by century old trees, eventually reaching the neutral ground of the streetcar line. They joined others lined up waiting for the next car.

"Are you hungry?" He asked as they found seats.

Sara laughed. "I just ate more for brunch than I eat in a week. It'll be hours before I want more food."

"Good," he placed an arm along the back of the wooden seat. "We have reservations for dinner tonight." He checked his watch, "that's five hours for other things."

The streetcar moved along the street passing mansions of the quiet rich.

Sara asked, "What's the dress code?"

"You're fine."

Sara let out a breathe of air. "Gil, I have worn these twice on this trip. Tell me, do I need something else? I can get something, buy something." She knew he seldom thought about clothes but he dressed straight out of GQ.

"You look great. You really do. But we can go back to the little shop that you and Sofia found. You liked what was there."

She remembered the store in the French Quarter with its muted colors and classic styles. Way above her budge, she thought, but they found the shop. He stood before the display window, "I like that." He pointed to a bright sparkly evening dress.

Sara shook her head and pushed open the door. "Maybe this isn't a good idea." Never one for shopping, especially for clothes, she stopped short inside the door. Cool air rushed at them as the door closed. Sara knew she had the wide-eyed look of a gawky teenager standing in front of racks of prom dresses—the colors, the textures of fabrics were overwhelming. She turned to leave.

Grissom, standing right behind her, halted her exit. "Just look." His eyes met hers and with that blue gaze, she stopped.

A voice welcomed them to the store. Sara turned to see two older women approaching from a back room, one wearing a tape measure around her neck.

Grissom was first to speak, in his well-mannered voice, said "We need a dress—she needs something for dinner tonight." He kept his hands on her arms as she turned around.

A flurry of questions, directed at both, came in from the women. Sara was in front of a rack with one, saying "I'm not sure." While the other stayed with Grissom near the door. These two women knew what service they provided and knew how to do it. Grissom was no help; everything pulled from the rack, he liked.

Settling on two, they showed Sara to the back room and a small curtained cubicle. They left Grissom in a chair with a magazine.

Sara was amazed. The room was their workroom. Bolts of fabric rested against walls. Dress patterns were pinned on every surface. Several sewing machines and tables filled floor space. She slowed to touch the cloth knowing it was expensive just from touch.

She turned to the women. "I'm sorry. I've made a mistake and wasted your time."

The women looked at each other, then Sara. One said, "It is never a waste of time to dress a beautiful young woman."

She stumbled over words. "I—I'm sorry. Your store is beautiful, but I can't afford these things." She noticed no tags on the two outfits they held for her.

They smiled in faces that were similar. "Try these on. We'll have a sale, won't we, Clarice?"

The older one, Clarice, nodded. "We don't get many customers like you—your size, your height. Let us see how our things look on you."

Both looked so pleased as they looked up at Sara, she resigned to try on both, quickly, and disappeared behind the curtain. The first, a dark blue silk, fit perfectly, closing with a side zipper and some kind of straps crossing the back. She stepped from behind the curtain.

Both women waited and immediately gave approving "ahhhs" on her appearance. Grissom joined them, leaving against the door, nodding his approval.

"It's too much." She whispered.

"It's perfect." He returned.

"I have no shoes, not even the right under—you know."

"We will get them" He twirled his hand for her to turn around. "It's perfect."

The two women had quietly watched both. "We need a few minutes to make this perfect," one said. The other moved with Grissom back to the front.

Sara turned in front of the mirror, as the one named Clarice pulled hidden threads that gradually took shape to show curves and hips, and cleavage that were usually hidden underneath a sweater or a jacket. She started smiling as the seamstress worked magic with her fingers using Sara as a living form, all the while asking questions.

"You have a great figure for our patterns, honey. This one is over fifty years old."

Sara realized it did have the look of dresses worn in old movies. "Are all these dresses one you make?" Sara's clothes were mass produced by the thousands. No wonder this dress felt like warm water against her skin.

Clarice nodded, "We do lots of Mardi Gras ball gowns, debutante dresses, but we sew these for our own satisfaction. We order a bolt for a wedding and what's left, we use on one of these." She made another adjustment. "Not many people can wear them—old patterns have different measurements than the new ones, but the styles are classic." Her scissors clipped something on the back of the dress.

"You're going to a wonderful place for dinner. One of our oldest restaurants—over 150 years in the same family." She handed Sara two transparent triangles. Her eyes twinkled, "Maybe you need these for modesty." Her hands covered her own chest. "Your handsome man does more than brighten your eyes, yes?"

Sara realized what the triangles were. "Yes, I do." She no longer needed her bra. "Shoes, I need shoes." She looked at her bare feet.

"Shoes," Clarice disappeared into the front, returning in an instant with the second woman and two boxes. "Anna called next door. Try these." Shoes came out of the box and onto Sara's feet.

She was amazed for the second time within the hour. "How?"

The two women laughed together. "We stay in business knowing what customers need," one said. "Our grandparents opened this store. We played as children around these sewing machines. We never thought about another life outside this store. Tonight, you will be the most beautiful woman at Antoine's." They both stood back to admire the young woman dressed in their work.

Clarice suggested, "Let's not show your gentleman how you look. He needs a surprise for later!" They both giggled at the thought. "He just thinks he saw perfection." Sara giggled with them.

By the time Sara redressed in her own clothing, the new dress was packaged in its own bag; one as elegant as the dress itself. Grissom had her new shoes and stood with the two women, all smiling with self-accomplishment. Sara opened her bag to pay.

"Already paid for," Clarice's hand went up.

Sara's eyes rolled to Grissom's. He smiled that 'pleased with me' smile. "My treat," was all he would say.

The two women hugged Sara as long friends do. "You come back again, yes." This was made as a statement, not request. "This is a good dress; it will last a long time." She patted the dress bag.

The other woman looked at Grissom first, then Sara. She took Sara's hand in hers. "One day you come back when you need another dress—a wedding dress, yes?" This time there was a question in her remark.

Sara laughed. Grissom was opening the door as she thanked the two women. She had blushed at this last comment; Grissom had chosen to exit. On the sidewalk, she kissed him, as passionately as one could holding a dress that probably cost more than she made in two weeks.

"We still have some time before dinner." He whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Their leisurely meanderings suddenly turned into a fast-paced walk as the hotel came into sight. They were almost running in the hallway before getting his keycard into its slot and the door open. Sara hung her dress up as he pulled her black sweater over her head. She giggled. He nuzzled her neck.

Coverlet and pillows tumbled to the floor as the two found the bed leaving a trail of clothes across the room.

"You should have shaved," she giggled as his day-old scruff scratched tender places on her body.

Her comment made him laugh. "Will that new dress cover this spot?" He playfully kissed her in a very private area while she pulled him to her. This man had a passionate soul that few would ever see. She knew it was her private privilege to know him this way. Making love to him was as natural as waking to life itself.

They lay in each other arms as the sun disappeared and darkness settled on this city called New Orleans. Tomorrow they would return to the dry, arid desert city and to their homes and work.

"It is selfish of me, but I wanted this time with you more than I can say." His words were quiet and serious. Sara could feel his heart beating underneath her hand. "I could get used to this." He spoke his thoughts out loud.

Sara blurted out, "So could I." She giggled.

"I love that sound coming from you." His gentle voice caused her look at him. His blue eyes looked into her brown ones. "You are the most wonderful thing ever to happen to me. I will not say this often, but always know it. I love you today, tomorrow, and for as long as I live. Do not forget this. My greatest fear is that you have brought me much more than I could ever give you." He touched her face, her neck, and ran his fingers into her hair.

His voice became playful again. "We have dinner in a short while. It's time to bathe and dress. I want to see what you and Clarice were whispering about while I was waiting."

He shaved while she showered and as she reached for a towel, he wrapped one around her, providing a second for her hair.

"I can do this, Gil, I'm not helpless." Sara said as he began to dry her shoulders.

"Let me do this." In his voice was a gentle persuasion that made her smile as she kissed him. "When we return home, you can assume your independent life in your own apartment. Let me attempt to be chivalrous tonight." It took longer than necessary to dry her body, but she let him, giggling at his efforts.

The dress slipped over her head like a second skin, floating to fit her curves and feeling like warm water. She zipped it up in front of the mirror and was astonished at the difference in her looks. The clear triangle pieces worked their magic on her breasts making her do a double-take in the mirror thinking 'where did those come from'. She knew Grissom would be pleased. Her feet were in her new shoes by the time he stepped from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

She turned slowly so she could watch his reaction. His eyes grew big as his hand went to his bare chest.

"Be still my heart; what vision is this I see?" His words were breathless.

"Shakespeare?"

He smiled, "No, Grissom."

She slowly rotated. "Is it worth it?"

"Yes."

Before they left, his curiosity made him ask the question she knew he wanted to ask. "This?" His fingers traced the neckline of the dress until he got to her cleavage. "This is new." He smiled as she pulled the fabric away just enough for him to peak.

"Secrets, Grissom. Now I have these, I'll drive you wild."

He gave her that Grissom smirk, "Just don't wear these to work. Greg would be unable to function." She curled her fingers into a soft fist and chucked his shoulder.

She smiled, "I've never worn anything so elegant. Thank you."

The restaurant was everything it advertised and more. Sara and Grissom did not think their brunch service could be out-done. They were both wrong. Tuxedoed waiters provided service unlike any they had experienced. Food was excellent. Sara's request for vegetarian lifted not an eyebrow as their waiter described dishes they would prepare for her. They ordered the signature Baked Alaska on the waiter's recommendation, unprepared for what came to their table at the end of the meal. Sara gasped while Grissom took his spoon and tucked in with delight.

Before leaving, Sara found the ladies room and while carefully washing her hands to avoid splashes on her dress, a stranger spoke to her.

"Is your dress a Clarice and Anna design?" she asked.

Sara could hardly believe that a stranger could easily recognize the dress. "Yes, it is."

The woman explained. "I saw you earlier. Their designs are well recognized in the city. They designed my own wedding dress as well as my daughter's. You are lovely in it. Not everyone can wear their dresses." She smiled with approval. "You are not from here?"

"No, Las Vegas."

The older woman touched Sara's arm. "It suits you perfectly. I hope you enjoy it for many years."

Sara had never had anyone compliment her this way on what she wore. She smiled her broad grin, "Thank you," was all she could think to say. As she walked back to Grissom, she stood taller, thinking, 'this is how Catherine walks.'

Grissom stood as she approached. He knew she looked beautiful and knew he was not the only person in the restaurant who thought so. Old men at table with their wives turned to look at her. Women watched her slip between tables with undisguised envy. Two young waiters nearly collided as they watched her walk across the room. Sara smiled at them like she would smile at Greg.

As they left the restaurant, Grissom announced one more thing they had to do before leaving the city. He guided her along streets back to Jackson Square. Horse drawn carriages lined the curb waiting for those lovers reluctant to leave New Orleans, wishing for a way to slow time before they had to leave this blended city of cultures, old and new.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Thanks to all who read along and especially those who made comments

_A/N: Thanks to all who read along and especially those who made comments! This story ends, another is in the works. Hope you enjoyed our bit of fluff!_

Chapter 20

"There's no room, Gil." She held the dress bag in her hand. She eyed his one suitcase. "You can carry one of mine."

He looked at her three bags—a purple one, a bag of books, and the dress. "Give me the dress." He hooked his finger in the air and smiled, remembering last night, or this morning. The dress, or Sara in the dress, was beautiful. Once he conquered the odd zipper, it had slipped from her body as easily as water from a faucet. The image made him stop breathing. She had stood in front of him with a pool of blue silk around her feet.

"Earth to Grissom," she laughed as she put the dress hanger on his finger. "We should leave."

Holding the dress bag, he kissed her holding her face to his until they needed air.

"I'm not ready," he whispered. "I say that every time we're together."

"We have to work tonight," she replied making no move to leave. They remained together until Sara made a deep sigh. "We have to leave."

They gathered bags and jackets and headed to the airport. Grissom managed exit row seats. He talked the flight attendant into hanging her dress in the first class space.

"How do you do this? You get the exit row seats. I do appreciate the leg room. My dress is hanging in first class." She gave him a look. "You flirt!" She giggled. "If you were alone, you would be in first class."

Sara watched as the city below melted into water and marsh. "There's so much water down there. It's so different from Las Vegas."

"It's old," he said.

"It's historic," was her response.

His eyes were closed. "It's humid."

"It's sultry—think Blanche Dubois."

One eye opened. "Blanche Dubois? I'm impressed."

"I liked the guy."

"It's tacky. Think Bourbon Street."

At that, she elbowed him. "It's beautiful."

He closed his eyes again. "The girl I'm with is beautiful." His head snuggled against her arm. "Wake me when we land."

She opened her book.

Landing in Las Vegas was an appreciation of an oasis in a desert. Mountains opened to a flat plateau and in its middle was a sparkling sea of lights. Grissom called Greg who arrived by the time their luggage could be picked up. He talked about everyone and everything that had happened in their absence. Sara gave him a t-shirt from New Orleans; he was thrilled that she had thought of him.

Their shift was easy; paperwork, review, neither Grissom nor Sara left the building. She went home alone afterwards. Checking her email, she found one from Grissom. She smiled as she read it, sent a reply, and turned off the computer.

Neither could imagine what horrors their next shift would bring. An easy call turned into their nightmare. All other cases were dropped in their desperate search for Nick. Sara and Grissom watched as Nick was taken away, Warrick and Catherine with him. Grissom went home with her; they rarely slept alone again. It would take him another year and the near death of Brass before Sara agreed to move in with him.


End file.
